


Detention: Senior Year

by breakaway71



Series: Detention [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakaway71/pseuds/breakaway71
Summary: Gabriel parted ways from Dean last summer with a promise he never should have made and a mental countdown to graduation. They can't be anything more, not yet, but that doesn't stop those inconvenient feelings from growing all the same.(The conclusion of a surprisingly innocent student/teacher AU.)
Relationships: Gabriel/Dean Winchester
Series: Detention [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1051643
Comments: 14
Kudos: 47





	Detention: Senior Year

**Author's Note:**

> 10 years, or a lifetime ago, Tiptoe39 won a charity fic from me, and asked for a simple high school AU. She indulged me horribly by letting me write my favorite rare pair, and indulged me even further by allowing me to make the relationship what I did. I don't think either of us ever expected it would become _this_ , or that it would take so long to do so. But I fell in love with these boys from the beginning, and even after so long, I couldn't let them go without finishing their story and giving them the happy ending they deserved.
> 
> I owe so much to both her and ladyeternal for their constant cheerleading, hand-holding, and support. This story, this _verse_ , would simply not exist without them.
> 
> It's finally finished, you guys. 10 years and 40,000 words later. I really hope you enjoy. <3

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/134706723@N02/49938558251/in/dateposted-public/)

When the bell rings at 9:05, Gabriel thinks he's prepared. He's built every mental defense he's capable of building. He will be calm and professional. He will be fine.

And indeed, when Sam walks in with a bright smile and a wave, it's totally okay. Just like he told himself it would be. Gabriel grins back at him, winks, and leans back against his desk as he waits for the rest of his new freshmen to file in.

At 9:08, Dean walks in, and Gabriel _crumbles_.

"Hey squirt, you left your phone on the front seat of my car," Dean says, tossing the beat up device to his little brother.

"Oops," Sam says with a laugh. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean refrains from ruffling Sam's hair like he normally would, nudging his shoulder gently instead, probably in deference to all of Sam's classmates eyeing them curiously. Dean knows what high school students are like, he won't go out of his way to embarrass Sam here.

Sam shoves him back and says, "Get to class, loser," to which Dean rolls his eyes, hitches his backpack up on his shoulder, and leaves.

All of this happens without a single look in Gabriel's direction.

His heart feel like it's being squeezed out of his chest, and there's something lodged in his throat that's making it oddly hard to breathe, but he's fine. He's _fine_.

"Hey, Mr. G?" Sam asks.

Gabriel has to forcefully drag his gaze away from the door to look at Sam. "What's up, Sam?"

"Just. The bell rang," Sam says, sounding a little sheepish. "It's 9:10?"

Which means Gabriel's been staring longingly out the door like a lovesick idiot instead of starting class on time. _Great_.

It's fine. He's going to be fine.

Gabriel takes a deep breath, dredges up a smile, and claps his hands. "All righty, freshmen! Today, we are going to discuss the syllabus. You may think, oh ho, this is the easy day, no sweat, but let me tell you. You are all poor, defenseless bunny rabbits, and I am the great hunter Elmer Fudd. No, I will not explain who that is. What this means is, you will read your syllabus, and you will find all the clues hidden within to fill in a pop quiz puzzle at the end. So buckle up, kiddos! You're in for it now."

A few kids laugh, the tension from the start of class forgotten. Maybe it was imagined to begin with, maybe no one even noticed that poor Sam Winchester had to prompt him to start his own damn class.

He can do this. He can get through this year, and the constant reminders, and the low buzz of energy he feels inside his skin at the knowledge that Dean is here, in the building.

_Buckle up,_ he thinks to himself. _It's gonna be a bumpy ride._

*

At 2:37, two minutes after the final bell has rung and the last student has departed for the day, Dean slips into his classroom and shuts the door. "Hey," he says quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Something inside Gabriel that has been tight and aching all day releases, just a little. "Hey, yourself." He raises an eyebrow at the closed door. _Not a good idea, Winchester._

Dean huffs, but opens it a crack. The sound of student chatter and slamming lockers fills the room again. It's comforting, somehow. A clear barrier, if nothing else.

"I just, um. I wasn't sure…I didn't stop by at lunch." There's a hint of a flush painted over the dusting of Dean's freckles, and Gabriel is thoroughly annoyed at himself for finding it as endearing as he does.

_I'd noticed,_ he thinks, but doesn't say. Lunch was so long ago, after all, and sure, maybe he'd spent most of it staring at the clock, wondering where Dean was, wondering why he wasn't here to grade pop quizzes and engage in some witty banter and pretend that everything was normal, wondering if maybe he'd gotten some sense knocked into his head and changed his mind, and _yes_ , okay, it was probably better all around if he had, but…

"Ga…um. Mr. Laufison?" Dean's peering at him and Gabriel realizes he's been silent for too long.

"I kept myself entertained, Dean-o, no worries," he finally manages to say, not entirely honestly but one little white lie is hardly the worst of his sins now.

"I just wasn't sure, you know." Dean chews at the inside of his lip. "If it was okay. If I could still…I wasn't sure if I ruined…"

"Oh, hell." Gabriel stands up, because he can't be sitting with that giant teacher's desk between them to have this conversation. He walks around and places himself in front of the desk, but leans back against the comforting support of the hard wood, hoping it will help keep him grounded. "Dean. Listen to me. _Look_ at me, okay?" Because Dean's barely been able to meet his eyes since walking into the room.

Slowly, Dean shifts his gaze so that his eyes, darkened with the force whatever he's feeling right now, meet Gabriel's.

Gabriel releases a slow breath. "First and foremost, I'd like to think I'm your friend. Whatever else is or isn't going to happen in the future…that's the future, okay? If you still want to be here on your downtime, chatting with your grouchy old ex-history teacher, my door is always open to you. _Always_. And… _open_ , okay, I mean that, the door stays open at all times."

Finally Dean laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck, and nods. "Okay. I thought…but I wanted to be sure. With everything else, you know."

"I know," Gabriel says, quiet.

"Okay," Dean says again. "I should go track down Sammy, geek is probably hiding in the library pawing at all the new books. I'll, um. See you later?"

Gabriel nods, feels his mouth twitching into a smile of his own, possibly the first real one all day. He's not thinking about it. "Check you later, Winchester."

Dean leaves, and Gabriel sits back down behind his desk, feeling somehow both infinitely lighter and unimaginably heavier than he had five minutes ago.

He closes his eyes for a long moment, centers himself. And picks up his first stack of papers of the year to grade.

If nothing else, at least all of the pent-up, conflicted, roiling feelings inside of him might keep him on-task with his teaching responsibilities. It's a small bright side, but hell, he'll take what he can get.

*

The next two weeks do a lot to calm Gabriel's wired nerves. Things do seem to reach an equilibrium status and go back to something approaching normal. Dean spends his lunches in Gabriel's classroom, and the familiarity of their usual banter between graded quizzes is a balm.

Then one day, after Dean has left and Gabriel is getting ready for his next class, he sees it. Isn't sure how he _missed_ it, frankly, the little glint of silver sitting innocently on the corner of his desk.

"Oh, Winchester," Gabriel sighs, but he can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he picks up the Hershey Kiss and studies it. He wonders how Dean managed to sneak it onto his desk without Gabriel noticing. His eyes fall on the tag sticking out of the wrapped chocolate.

_It made me think of you,_ Dean has written, in script so tiny it's a miracle he managed it at all.

"Well, hell," Gabriel says, feeling oddly choked up. Without pausing to second guess himself, he pops the chocolate into his mouth just as the students begin trickling in. 

He manages to savor it, letting it melt slowly on his tongue for the full four minutes until the bell rings. He throws the wrapper away, but the tag, he smooths out carefully and tucks into the pages of his book to keep it safe.

The second Kiss is left at the end of the day on Friday. Gabriel returns from the restroom, ready to settle in and get some marking done before he goes home for the weekend, when he spots it sitting right in the center of his stack of essays.

_Is chocolate kiss as good as real?_ The tag on this one reads, and Gabriel tries not to think too hard about his answer.

The third shows up sometime before he arrives on Tuesday, waiting for him in the drawer where he keeps his keys and phone when he's teaching, and reads, _Countdown continues…_ , which makes the anxiety in Gabriel's stomach swell even as he's fighting a smile.

_Do you think about me?_ reads the fourth, tucked into the front pocket of Gabriel's messenger bag.

_You're cute when you scowl,_ after Dean defends a student's exam answer that is _clearly_ wrong except on a minor technicality.

And then the next day, _Actually you're cute all the time._

_I miss you,_ when Dean is forced to spend a week of lunches and after school time working on the beginning of his senior project, and, _Can we not do that again?,_ the day he returns.

One day, Gabriel finds a Kiss in his mailbox when he gets home, and Dean must have unwrapped and rewrapped it because the entire tag is taken up with a message: _You give me hope for the future. Mine, and ours. You make me believe I can have a future._ Gabriel doesn't even realize he's crying until a tear splashes on the precious, fragile slip of paper, and he hastily scrubs his face and goes inside to put the note with the rest of them.

They never talk about the chocolate messages – as far as Gabriel's concerned, there's plausible deniability. There's no _proof_ they're from Dean, after all, no proof that he's gone and found a way right around Gabriel's instructions to not talk about… _this_ , to ignore it until after graduation.

Gabriel can't say he minds all that much, even if he absolutely should.

So Dean continues to leave Hershey Kisses is places for Gabriel to find, and Gabriel continues to hoard them like a dragon hoarding precious treasure, and to the rest of the world, they're exactly the same as they've always been, while on the inside all those inconvenient feelings only continue to grow.

*

On the Friday before Thanksgiving break, Dean enters the classroom at the end of the day, Sam trailing behind with a small smile.

"Heya, boys," Gabriel says. "What’s up? Shouldn’t you be skedaddling? Whole week off and you’re hanging around this dump?" He grins when Sam laughs, meets Dean’s gaze and has to fight off a flush at how warm his eyes are around his own smile.

"We’re leaving in a minute," Sam tells him, hitching his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. "But first we promised to extend an invitation from Mom. She wasn’t sure if you had Thanksgiving plans or not with your family…" He trails off, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Gabriel didn’t have much in the way of plans. In fact it would be more accurate to say that Gabriel had _anti_ -plans. Meeting up with his siblings is for any day that _isn’t_ a holiday, because holidays bring back all kinds of bad memories they would all rather avoid. Thanksgiving and Christmas in particular are days Gabriel far prefers to ignore entirely, but…

Oh, this is a very, very bad idea. Gabriel knows it even as he’s opening his mouth to say, "I didn’t have any plans, no. If your mom is sure it’s not too much trouble…"

"It’s not!" Sam promises. "We always have tons of extra. Sometimes Dad comes, but…" He stops, and there’s a moment of awkward silence. "Well, he’s not invited this year, and Mom wanted to thank you for everything this summer. Only if you want to, of course."

Gabriel drags his gaze to where Dean is standing, hands shoved in his pockets and head tilted as he graces Gabriel with another slow smile, the slightest hint of a nod. _Please,_ that look says. There’s no Hershey’s Kiss today, but Gabriel knows what it would read all the same. _I want you there._

_I want you._

God, he shouldn’t, but he nods at Sam and manages another grin. "Then please tell her thank you. I’ll be there, she can text or call me with the details at her convenience."

"Awesome!" Sam fist pumps, and Dean snorts as he ruffles his little brother’s hair, but he meets Gabriel’s gaze one more time before they turn to leave. _Thank you,_ he mouths, like it’s a big chore Gabriel’s doing, like he’s not giving in to being in the exact place he wants to be, spending time with the exact person he wants to spend time with. Like he’s not a selfish bastard for taking advantage of Mary’s generosity and Sam’s excitement.

Fuck. He needs to call Cas.

*

"Let me see if I understand correctly," Castiel says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean kissed you at the end of his stay during the summer. A kiss you failed to tell me about."

"One kiss," Gabriel mutters. "Very chaste. Hardly counted as a kiss at all." He pauses. "And yes."

Castiel gives him a _look_. Gabriel really should have stuck with the phone call instead of letting the man visit. "You then made promises to each other to reevaluate your feelings at the end of the school year, and begin a relationship if he was still amenable."

God, when it's put in that way… Gabriel gives a jerky nod.

"And since the year began, he’s been leaving you the equivalent of love letters."

"Now come on, I’d hardly say _that!_ " Gabriel protests, crossing his arms. It's not a defensive posture. It's _not_.

Castiel ignores him, predictably. "And now you mean to tell me that Mary Winchester has invited you to her home for Thanksgiving. A holiday, I might remind you, that you have loathed since we were children, and which holds extremely traumatic memories for you." _For all of us,_ he doesn’t say, but it’s there in the slight shudder that even he can’t hide.

Gabriel sinks deeper into his chair, rubbing a hand wearily over his face. "Bout sums it up. And it's Mary Campbell, by the way. She ditched the loser ex’s name in the divorce."

" _Gabriel_." Castiel’s eyes are speaking volumes more than his words or tone. "You should have told me all of this months ago, you realize. Didn’t you already try keeping secrets? Do you not remember how that turned out?"

"I’m handling it just fine." Gabriel spreads his hands. "Okay, I _was_. Up until the Thanksgiving thing. Look, Cas, I know…I know it never should have gotten this far, and I shouldn’t have let Dean get so close or have any hope at all, let alone a…a _promise_. I know. But it happened and it’s not…I’m not unhappy about it." God, he’s the opposite of unhappy. "Notes aside – they are _not_ love letters, don’t give me that look – everything is exactly the same as it’s always been. There’s been nothing _untoward_ and there won’t be. You know that. Come on, you have to know that."

"Everything is exactly the same, you say." Castiel’s eyebrow wings up. "Except for a promise. And a sudden desire to partake in family festivities on your most hated day of the year."

"It’s not my…" Gabriel trails off at Castiel’s look. His very judgmental look.

"It is. And with good reason." Castiel shakes his head. "Gabriel, all other things aside, I’m just worried about _you_. Are you sure you’re ready to leave your house on that day, go and sit around a big table and eat turkey and make friendly conversation? Are you sure this is a good idea?"

For a long moment, Gabriel is silent, and then he sighs, sinking back against his chair again and hoping maybe it will just swallow him whole. "Not even a little bit," he finally admits. "But, Cas…I want to do this. And not…not just because of Dean, okay, I know that’s what it seems like but I want to prove to myself that I can do this." _I want to not fall apart at the idea of family. Dean believes in a future, why can’t I?_

Castiel nods, slowly. "It won’t be easy; it hasn’t been for a long time."

"Do you ever…" Gabriel waves a hand. "I don’t know much about Meg’s family, but have you ever sat through a holiday with them?"

"No." Castiel quirks a small smile. "Luckily for me, Meg ridicules the holidays nearly as much as I hate them. If we see each other at all, we order Chinese food and watch bad television and pretend it’s just another day of the week. Even that’s difficult for me sometimes."

Gabriel nods. You couldn’t find another person more different than Castiel as Meg Masters, she of the smart mouth and the sharp smirk and the sassiest of sassy attitudes. But she’s been good people, and damn good for Castiel, which is good enough for Gabriel. He’s glad she doesn’t give Cas a hard time about his past. Suspects she has her own to deal with, which probably helps. "Any tips?" he asks wearily.

"Tell Mary ahead of time that you may need to find a quiet moment alone if things get to be too much. It will hurt your pride, but your health is more important. Call me if necessary. I’ll keep my phone on all day. And if it comes down to it and you need to, take comfort where you can." He gives Gabriel a long look. "The simple presence of someone you care about can go a long way. So can a hug."

Gabriel feels his face warm, but tries to cover it with a dry, "Not gonna warn me off?"

"It’s clear it would do no good." Castiel shakes his head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "And frankly, Gabriel, I meant what I said when I visited during the summer. You and Dean… I can see what drew you to each other. I see the care you’re taking with the situation. Is it ideal? No, of course not. But you passed ideal a long time ago – the point of no return, if you will, in feelings if not in action. And I think…" He pauses for a moment, seems to gather his thoughts, then nods, sitting up a little straighter. "This is as close as I can get to a professional opinion, under the circumstances, but I mean it when I say that I think you’ll be all right. I think you’ll be good for each other, at the end of all this, if you’re careful until then."

_God, I hope so,_ Gabriel thinks. "Honestly, Cas, I wish you could be there too," he says, and it's only because it's Castiel that he's able to force the words out at all.

Castiel shudders. "I love you, brother, very much. But nothing on earth could drag me away from my house, my cat, a pint of ice cream, and perhaps my girlfriend distracting me as much as she's able."

In spite of himself, the situation, and this entire conversation, Gabriel laughs. If nothing else, it goes a long way to breaking up the tension in the room, and even Castiel is chuckling. It's not a laughing matter at all, but in some ways, it's good to know they're in it together. Uriel won't discuss, when he bothers to be around at all, and Anna knows some of the story but not all of it. None of them have seen Michael in years, and Raphael is still serving a lengthy prison sentence.

Gabriel and Castiel are all each other really has when the past tries to swallow them.

"It'll be fine," Gabriel says as the laughter tapers off; he's not entirely sure who he's trying to convince more. "It'll be totally fine."

*

Mary calls him on Wednesday. "I just wanted to make sure you were still joining us," she says. "At this point, I won't take no for an answer, but you deserve the courtesy of me pretending anyway." There's a smile in her voice.

"If you're sure you don't mind an extra mouth to feed, then absolutely," Gabriel says. He hesitates, then before she can respond, adds, "I, um. I should warn you, I'm not great at holidays. There's some _issues_ , I guess, that make them hard."

"Oh, Gabriel, I'm so sorry. All jokes aside, please don't feel like you have to—"

"No, I sincerely appreciate the invitation, and I'd like to go. I just, I might need…" He huffs as all the words stopper up in his throat. "My brother says I should tell you up front that I might have to disappear and take a minute for myself, if it gets to be too much at once." His face is on fire; he's glad this is a phone call and she isn't there to see it.

"Of course I understand," Mary says, her voice gentle. "Whatever you need. I want you to be comfortable, and I'd love for you to be there, after everything you did for the boys this summer. They adore you, you know. Inviting you was Sam's idea. I guess maybe it's a little awkward, but it's sincerely meant. But if you decide you're not up for it, I promise there won’t be any hard feelings."

"That means a lot," Gabriel says. "Thank you. And I'll be there at 5, as planned."

"Then we look forward to seeing you."

They hang up and Gabriel feels both heavier and lighter than before, but he's glad he was at least able to follow Castiel's advice on this one point.

The next day, he lies in bed for hours after waking, unable to leave his nest and face whatever is waiting outside. Thinks of Castiel and his cat and his ice cream and his girlfriend and feels a deep twinge of jealousy that he has none of those things. He wonders if maybe it's time to bite the bullet on the shelter dog he's been visiting for weeks, a six year old Jack Russel with a missing eye and a permanent limp where his front leg was shattered. _Be nice to have someone around here as broken as I am,_ he thinks with a sigh, and burrows deeper under his quilt, drifting until it's gone mid-afternoon and he can no longer hide.

He showers, wishing the steam could form a fog over his brain, a protective barrier that might keep him from panicking at the worst possible moment, but no such luck. His heart is already jack-rabbiting as he locks the door and makes his way to the car. Next door, his neighbors are stepping outside to greet their daughter and granddaughter, hugs and laughter all around. He grits his teeth, looking away.

The Campbell/Winchester house is exactly what Gabriel might have expected from a woman like Mary. A modestly sized clapboard painted butter yellow with white trim, a front yard kept neatly trimmed with tall shrubs along the front of the house, and a garden following the walkway to the door, which has an autumn wreath designed to resemble a cornucopia. It's about as picturesque as you can get, the sort of home every family should have. All it’s missing is the white picket fence. Gabriel takes a deep breath and knocks.

"Mr. G!" Sam says with a grin, stepping aside to let Gabriel enter. The house smells like autumn candles, underneath all the baking. "You're right on time. Mom is finishing up the turkey, and Dean's setting the table. Can I get your jacket?"

Gabriel passes it over and manages a smile for his student. "Good to see you, Sam. I promise not to make you talk about homework over dinner," he says with a wink.

Sam laughs. "It's done anyway, I won't mind if you do."

"You make the rest of us look bad, Sammy," Dean says, coming into the hall with a grin. His eyes land on Gabriel and immediately warm to something softer. "Hey, Mr. Laufison. Good break so far?"

"Can't complain. Where should I put these?" He holds up the bag of bakery pumpkin cookies and bottle of wine.

"I'll bring 'em in to Mom," Dean says. He comes forward to take the offerings, and Gabriel doesn't – cannot possibly – miss the way he brushes his fingers against Gabriel's. Their eyes meet, lock for just the briefest moment, electricity zapping through every nerve ending from those small points of contact between their hands, utterly devastating.

"Thanks," he manages, swallowing. _Damn it, Dean._ But Dean's already walking towards the kitchen, and doesn't hear Gabriel's mental cursing.

Mary greets him with a short hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Do you like football?" she asks. "We can turn the game on while I finish up here."

"No, heck no, never one for sports," Gabriel laughs. "But give me something I can do to help, I'm not a complete lost cause in a kitchen."

"Well, you have something over both of my sons, then," she says, arching a brow at Sam and swatting at Dean when he inches towards the cookies on the counter.

She sets Gabriel to work, and the conversation flows easily enough between the four of them. Gabriel's breathing remains…steady _ish_ ; he can almost forget this is a holiday and not just a nice friendly gathering. He thinks he might get through this after all.

When they finally sit down to dinner, Gabriel is pleased to find that it's not the long, intimidating sort of dining table from his childhood, but a smaller square table set just off the kitchen, kitty corner to the family room. They take their seats after the food is laid out, Mary across from Gabriel, Sam on his left and Dean on his right. Mary gives a happy sigh.

"It's so nice to have this, huh?" she says. "Dean, want to get us started?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "You know I'm not big on the religion stuff, right? We've talked about it."

Gabriel goes very still.

"And I don't make you go to church out of respect for your beliefs or lack thereof," Mary says. "But a prayer at the holiday dinner isn't asking too much. Humor me."

"Mom—"

"I can do it," Sam says, looking back and forth between his mom and his brother and chewing his bottom lip. Focusing on him playing peacekeeper gives Gabriel a chance to breathe through the soft ringing in his ears.

A prayer at dinner is a normal thing. Tons of families do it, for every dinner even. It doesn't mean the same thing it did in his household, particularly at the holidays. Doesn't mean being on your knees begging God's forgiveness, doesn't mean…doesn't mean…

He's brought back to himself by Dean's hand sliding into his, and he startles until he feels Sam taking his other. Of course. Linking hands for family prayer. That's…new. Something he’s only ever seen on television. But it’s not bad. He feels cold and a little clammy, hopes neither of the brothers notice. Focuses on the feel of Dean's hand, warm and calloused and _real_ beneath his own as he bows his head and lets the words flow over and around him while very carefully not listening to a single one.

When he hears the gentle murmur of Sam's voice wind to a close, he chances opening his eyes, finds Dean watching him with a slightly furrowed brow. Great…not quite as calm and collected as he wanted to appear.

They don't free his hands yet, and Mary smiles at him. "We have a tradition here where we all go around and say something we're thankful for this year."

There's a can of worms Gabriel probably shouldn't pop in this company. But he nods.

"Why don't you start, Gabriel? You’re the guest, after all," Mary says.

_Hoo boy._ He goes with the safe option: "I guess I'm thankful for my brother. We were never really close when we were young, and it took years to develop a real relationship with him, but he's been a life-saver this year. I owe him a lot, and it's made me want to get to know him better."

"Oh, I'm glad you've had him in your corner." Mary beams at him, then says, "Sam?"

Sam mumbles something unintelligible.

"Try again," Mary says, with the long-suffering air someone who's been down this road before.

"I'm grateful for my brother, too," Sam says, red as a tomato and refusing to look anywhere in the vicinity of Dean. "Grateful for everything he's done to make my life at Midway easier – don't think I don't know, Dean, I'm not dumb – and grateful he's here." _After he so easily might not have been,_ goes unsaid, but if Gabriel's thinking of a night in the woods and a bullet through Dean's leg, he seriously doubts he's the only one. There's a moment of silence, and then Mary clears her throat.

"I'm so grateful for _both_ you boys," she says, emotion making the words come out rough. "And I'm grateful you had someone in your corner when I couldn't be there." She gives Gabriel a wobbly smile. "Dean?"

Dean is quiet for a long moment. "I guess, uh. I'm grateful for all that stuff too – yeah Sammy, even you, even when you're annoying." They all laugh, but Dean's not finished yet. "This year though, I'm especially grateful for Mr. Laufison. I'm not sure where I'd be without him helping me talk through some stuff. Probably a lot unhappier. I doubt I'd even be thinking about college and shit." He ignores his mother's gentle scolding at the curse. "So, yeah. Thanks," he says directly to Gabriel, all soft smile and sparkling eyes and just a hint of a blush.

_Well, shit._ Gabriel gives Dean’s hand a gentle squeeze, tries to control his face and keep it from doing any of the ridiculous things it wants to do. "Anytime, Dean," he says softly. "But you hardly needed any help from me."

That seems to be the end of the traditional stuff, and Gabriel finds his hands released, which is enough of a relief that he can take a full breath for the first time since they sat down. With any luck, that will be the worst of it. And it wasn't so bad. He got through, didn't he?

It'll be fine.

The meal is a smorgasbord of turkey and corn pudding, garlic twice-baked potatoes and green beans drenched with a flavor Gabriel doesn't recognize, soft buttered rolls, and piles of cranberry sauce that both Sam and Dean dig into with gusto. It's all delicious, which Gabriel is sure to tell Mary as soon as he manages to stop chewing for long enough.

She laughs. "I'm so glad! I'm not all that great with turkey, really. It used to be John's task, but…" She trails off awkwardly.

There's a perceptible shift in the atmosphere as everyone goes very quiet for a moment. Dean's eyes, when Gabriel chances a look at him, are dark with emotion, and he's glaring down at his plate like the stuffing has done something to mortally offend him.

"Well," Gabriel says, clearing his throat. "You've done an amazing job, if I do say so myself. I could eat twelve of these."

She smiles with gratitude. "I'll be sure to pack you some leftovers before you go."

"Why can't anyone just say it?" Sam suddenly demands, his fork falling to his plate with a clatter as his hands clench. "Dad was a jerk. He was a jerk to us for years, he almost got Dean killed. But everybody tiptoes around it like it didn't happen, like he just stopped existing. He didn't. He's still out there, being a jerk."

"Sam, it's Thanksgiving—" Mary starts.

"I don't care! All summer I had to watch him—" He swallows back whatever he was going to say at a sharp look from Dean. "He was awful. And I'm glad we never have to go back there. But pretending like none of it ever happened _sucks_."

Gabriel wishes he could duck down and just disappear into the floorboards. This is clearly a family conversation he should have no part of, and there's a pit growing in his stomach at each word Sam spits, something dark and nausea-inducing that he really doesn't want to examine too closely, but—

"Your father loved you," Mary tries. "And yes, he showed it in exactly the wrong ways, but Sam, hating him won't change anything, and it isn't healthy."

" _You_ hate him! You hate him just as much as we do!" Sam glares at his mother. "Every time I've tried to bring it up since school started, you've changed the subject. And it's not okay, Mom. You don't even know everything, and if you do, you'd rather just ignore it and hope it goes away, but keeping him out of our lives now isn't going to change all the crap he already did to us!"

"Sam." Dean's voice is a growl. "Calm the fuck down. We've talked about this."

"No, we haven't," Sam says, his hand closing into a fist as he transfers his glower to his brother. "Because you don't want to think about it either. You think I don't know, Dean? About the training, yeah, but about everything else, too? The way he was trying to indoctrinate you to his way of thinking, telling you how bad you were at everything, how wrong you were all the time?"

He says more, but something inside of Gabriel has snapped with an audible _twang_ , and Sam's voice is drowned out by the increasing sound of static-y nothing. White noise, but worse because it feels like it's devouring him. His skin goes too hot and then clammy and then too hot again, and his hands are gripping the edge of his seat hard enough for the wood to creak beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, but can't hear how garbled the words come out as he shoves back from the table. "I just…bathroom…back in…" He doesn't even manage to say _a minute_ before he's stumbling from the room. He doesn't actually know where the bathroom even is, and his vision is tunneling in a way that would make it difficult to search anyway, but he needs to be anywhere but at that table.

He stumbles out the front door and sits heavily on the top step, his head in his hands, gulping in deep breaths of chilly air that do nothing to alleviate the tightness in his chest.

_There is_ right _and there is_ wrong _and I will not tolerate_ wrong _in my household!_

"Go away," Gabriel whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "Go away, go away, get out of my goddamn head you asshole."

_If you want to eat this meal and sit with this family, you will repent your sins, Gabriel! Ten lashes, on the mat. Where we can watch._

"You can't fucking make me, you _can't_ —"

_How dare you talk back to me, how dare you eve speak as though you're not covered in sin_ —

Gabriel tries to take his phone from his pocket, but his fingers are numb and he fumbles it, hears more than sees it clatter to the concrete steps and can only hope he didn’t crack the screen. _Cas Cas I need Cas jesus I can't do anything right I need_ —

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel startles, dragged forcibly from the phantoms in his head. He blinks up at Dean, tries to stand, but Dean's hand on his shoulder prevents him and instead the younger man drops down beside him.

"I can go if you want, but…you looked like you needed a friend. And I had to get out of there. Mom's talkin' to Sam right now, it might be a while." Dean's eyes are dark, sparking with some emotion Gabriel can only guess at.

"Uh…" Gabriel takes a breath, and this time it does a little to steady him. Or maybe that's just Dean, who still hasn't removed his hand from Gabriel's shoulder, a gentle pressure that does more to ground him than all the fresh air in the world. "Yeah. Got a little…intense there." His voice doesn't sound all that steady to his own ears, so he can only imagine how bad it actually is. His heart still feels like it's being strangled, but it's also pounding, beating hard in his chest like a caged bird.

"That's one way to put it," Dean mutters, but shakes his head, refocusing on Gabriel. "You okay?"

Gabriel snorts. "I am leagues away from okay." He doesn't mean to say it, but once he starts to speak, he can't seem to stop. "I'm a fucking mess. I don't have issues, I have lifetime subscriptions here. I know I hide it well most of the time, but I'm a goddamn disaster, Winchester.” He chokes on a self-deprecating laugh the grates in his throat and his ears. “This is what you'd be signing up for by sticking around. It's why no one else has. It's definitely why you shouldn't." He finally shuts up by sheer force of will, but the damage is already done, and he squeezes his eyes shut against whatever is coming.

Dean's hand finally moves from his shoulder, but before Gabriel can feel a sense of mean satisfaction – _knew he wouldn’t deal, why should he, why would anyone_ – he realizes it was only so Dean could take his hand instead. And heaven help both of them if Mary comes out, because Gabriel doesn't have it in him to do anything but cling, clutching Dean's hand so hard it must be uncomfortable. But Dean just laces their fingers together and squeezes gently. "We both got baggage," he says quietly.

Gabriel knows it's the truth, but he can't help but think that Dean, young and so full of options, will be able to offload his far more easily than Gabriel ever will. He knows better than to say it, though.

"You don't have to tell me," Dean says, his words careful now. "God knows I'm not great at the sharing and caring crap, so I can't expect it from anybody else." He's quiet for a minute, then shifts to look at Gabriel again, squeezing his hand till Gabriel meets his eyes. "I just want you to know that I'm here. If you ever want to talk. And I just gotta know, in the future, what should I avoid? Because I don't want to hurt you."

"Dean…" And that's it, that's his breaking point. Gabriel feels his throat lock up, his eyes well, and he turns away but not fast enough. Hunching over, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Fuck," he grits out, even as his brother's voice in his head implores him, _Take comfort where you can._

Dean pulls him in before the thought has even fully formed. Gabriel barely realizes until it's already happening, Dean turning Gabriel towards him and putting his arms around him like this is something they do every day. One hand pressed against the center of Gabriel's spine, and the other trailing up until it's brushing the nape of his neck, tickling the hair there, and Gabriel goes lax in his hold. Doesn't wonder if Dean can feel his scars through the thin cotton of his shirt, doesn't wonder if he'll ever be able to explain everything that's fucked up inside his own head, doesn't _think_ at all. Just clings to Dean like a drowning man, all lines between them temporarily erased as he presses his face into Dean's shoulder and trembles with the force of memory and emotion.

He doesn't know how long they sit like that. Doesn't know if anyone sees, couldn't care even if the thought were to occur to him. _Take comfort where you can,_ Castiel told him, and Gabriel takes his advice, grabbing hold of it like a life raft.

"I got you," Dean says, so quietly, like he's giving Gabriel the chance to pretend he doesn't hear. But Gabriel takes that, too, takes everything Dean can give him in this moment, until he feels less like he's drowning.

"In…in the _future_ …" It's not entirely the first time Gabriel lets him think those words in connection to Dean, but it might be the first time he lets himself believe in them. What a night. He clears his throat, but doesn't pull away quite yet. Isn't ready to look Dean in the eye when he says this. "My father is a topic I don't discuss. And religion. I have some frankly awful associations with both, separately and together." He takes in another shuddering breath. "I have. Scars. I'm sensitive about them." He takes one more long moment to hold Dean, and then he does pull away, both because he doesn't want to push his luck more than he already has, and because this is the most important, and he needs to be looking at Dean when he says it. "You…if this becomes a thing, Dean, you may not be able to avoid setting me off. I don't know all my own triggers. It's something I need to work on. But I want you to understand that even if I do fall off the wagon—" because that's how he thinks of it, "—it's not your fault. Even if it's because of something you said or did by accident. Okay? It's really important to me that you get that, before this goes any further."

"I get it," Dean says, maybe too easily, but the bright honesty in his eyes tell Gabriel he at least means it right now. It's something. He basically just saw Gabriel at his worst and hasn't run screaming for the hills yet, so it's _something_.

"Okay." Gabriel nods, then releases a sigh. "I should…geez, I have no idea how I'm gonna make this up to your mom, but…"

"You do what you need to do, G—" He winces, visibly cutting himself off, then huffs out a small laugh. "Sorry. Mr. Laufison. Anyway. Don't worry about dinner. Sammy managed to ruin that all on his own. He's gonna feel terrible about it, but honestly, kid's been a pressure cooker for weeks." He glances towards the closed door of his house, frowning. "It's probably better like this. Mom can't ignore it anymore. She's the best, but she's busy, I think she really wanted to just pretend everything away. Sam ain't built to just shove shit like that down."

_And you are?_ Gabriel doesn't say it out loud, knowing Dean won't appreciate it, especially right now. Hopefully in the course of helping Sam, Mary doesn't overlook her eldest son. Gabriel doesn't think she will, though, not with Sam's accusations still ringing in that house.

"Tell them I'm sorry anyway, would you?" Gabriel asks. "And eat an extra cookie for me."

Dean laughs. "Won't be a problem." He hesitates. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will. I promise." Gabriel smiles at him, and he's still shaky and feels more than a little pathetic, but it feels good to have a reason to smile, a person to smile _for_ , if he can't quite manage it for himself right now. "Thanks, Dean."

They stand, and Gabriel realizes that they were well hidden by the shrubs from this angle of the stoop. He's glad, since he has no idea how he could've explained that breakdown and subsequent embrace to Mary's neighbors.

Not the time to be worrying about that. He's sure that will come later, but not right now, not when he's still feeling beaten and fragile, like he just went three rounds with a truck. He picks up his phone (thankfully undamaged), and gives Dean a nod, then, before he can second-guess himself, reaches out to give Dean's hand one final squeeze before turning away. He feels Dean's eyes on him the whole walk down to his car, warm between his shoulders.

When he reaches into his pocket for his keys, he finds something else waiting for him as well. He pulls out the Hershey Kiss with a small smile he can't help, reading the tag with a heart that feels five sizes too big. _Here for you. Always._

Hope is a dangerous thing, especially in these ridiculous circumstances, but god help him, Gabriel is starting to believe it.

*

By Monday, Gabriel is feeling mostly recovered from the Thanksgiving debacle. Like, ninety-nine percent recovered.

Maybe ninety-five.

The point is, he spent a long time Friday on the phone with Castiel, then bit the bullet and booked an appointment with his actual therapist – it's been a while, but she remembered him, which was maybe a tad concerning – and spent the rest of the weekend curled up (okay, hiding) with a very good book about Pearl Harbor.

The rotating schedule means he doesn't have Sam's class on the first day back from break, which is probably a blessing in disguise. He does, however, see Dean, who saunters in as usual at lunchtime. And oh, that hyper little flutter in Gabriel's heart feels more dangerous than ever.

"Hey," Dean says, grinning as he plops down at one of the desks. He doesn't mention Thursday at all, which Gabriel is grateful for, but he does give him a quick once over before seeming satisfied.

"Hey yourself." Gabriel reaches into his lunch bag and pulls out an extra piece of fruit, tossing it to Dean.

"My, my, Mr. Laufison," Dean says, raising an eyebrow and leering in a very definitely _not_ adorable sort of way as he examines the peach in his hands. "If I didn't know any better—"

"You don't, and shut it," Gabriel says. "You keep skipping lunches to hang out here, and I refuse to be responsible for you starving to death or getting scurvy. Stop fondling the damn thing, eat it, and don't give me that look."

Dean does not stop giving him said look _at all_ as he bites into the fruit, slurping greedily at the juice that dribbles out.

_Right. That was a dumb idea._ Not that that's stopping Gabriel from guiltily enjoying it, but he manages to roll his eyes and at least pretend that he has an ounce or two of professionalism left. Judging by the growing smirk as he chews, Dean sees right through him.

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Dean clears his throat, tossing the peach pit at the garbage can. "So listen, Mr. Laufison," he says, and Gabriel perks up, intrigued by the red spreading across Dean's freckles and the way he's rubbing at the back of his neck. "Uh, I had a question. About. College applications."

Gabriel blinks, but the grin has already snuck across his face as he processes those words. "College, huh?" he says, because it's the first time Dean has brought up the possibility in any kind of serious way, at least to him.

"Yeah." Dean gives him a tiny smile that looks a little sickly at the edges. "Remember that dinner with your brother? I mentioned—"

"You were considering going into social work," Gabriel says, and finds himself flushing at the way Dean's eyes brighten, like he can't believe Gabriel remembered.

"Right. I still am. I still kinda…I mean, I doubt…" He looks up and must notice the look in Gabriel's eyes because he backtracks immediately. "Well, I figured it couldn't hurt to apply to KU, anyway. I mean, if I don't get in with the scholarships I'd need, I got plenty of other options, but…" He trails off, fumbling with words and fidgeting in his chair.

"I think it's a great idea," Gabriel says, gently. "It definitely doesn't hurt to apply, and your grades don't suck, Winchester, even if you try to hide how smart you are. What do you need from me?"

Dean swallows. "A letter of rec. I know it's…maybe not the most…uh, ethical thing to ask, all things considered, but. But there's no one else I really. Trust. To ask. I would have asked you before, even without…that."

"Dean." Gabriel's heart feels squeezed tight in his chest, affection and pride swelling so hard they leave him breathless. He sits forward in his chair and waits for Dean to meet his gaze. "First of all…I would do this without question even if we weren't…whatever we are. I'm honored, and humbled, that you asked me. I'd be more than happy to write you however many recommendation letters you need. Just pass along the details when you can, once you've decided for sure."

Dean's whole body relaxes all at once, and he blows out a big sigh of relief. "Thanks," he says, but his eyes are filled with a deeper gratitude than the simple word conveys.

"Dean…" Gabriel pauses, wonders if he's overstepping, if Dean will appreciate what he wants to say or wave it off or, worse, get angry. But the words are itching to escape, and anyway, they're true. Even if Dean doesn't want to hear them, he deserves to. He deserves to know that somebody thinks them, believes them. "You can do anything you set your mind to. You're smart, and strong, and more than capable. You're gonna be great at anything you choose. Whether it's social work, or your friend's garage, or joining a circus and learning to juggle. You're gonna be amazing. I believe that." He pauses, then smiles, and it's nothing at all like his usual grins or smirks, this smile is something so much softer, so much more real. Something that he already knows belongs only to Dean. "I believe in you."

Dean blinks at him, the red flush crawling back across the bridge of his nose and over his face, and then he looks away, swallowing, hand clenching convulsively on the side of the desk. He doesn't seem upset, though, Gabriel is relieved to realize. And after a long moment of silence, he chokes out another, rougher, "Thanks." His eyes flick back to meet Gabriel's, and the green is warm, bright with something he will undoubtedly never admit are tears.

They spend the rest of the lunch period in silence. It's a good silence, full of heavy, darting glances, and fingers that itch with the desire to touch, and smiles just this side of shy.

It feels like their relationship is changing faster than Gabriel was ever prepared to let it, and he thinks the biggest change of all now is that he doesn't – can't – mind that it's happening.

*

Of course, things aren't perfect. Time continues to pass, at approximately the rate of a particularly elderly sloth, but it does pass. By mid-December, things have settled back into a comfortable groove, and Gabriel is just beginning to think that maybe they'll actually escape the rest of this year unscathed.

He should really know better.

Rufus Turner knocks on Gabriel’s classroom door on a frigid Monday morning (because of course it's a Monday) and steps inside with a scowl. Since Rufus is always scowling, this isn’t a particular cause for alarm. Yet.

"Hey Rufus. What can I do you for?" Gabriel asks, leaning back in his chair.

"Need a favor," Rufus says. "I got a detention this afternoon, but I got an appointment I can’t miss. You willing to supervise one of these delinquents for an hour?"

"Sure," Gabriel says with a shrug. "I need my blackboards cleaned anyway. Who’s the lucky winner today?"

"Winchester," Rufus growls, and Gabriel freezes. Then very carefully wills his body to unclench before Rufus notices. He straightens in his chair slowly.

"Uh. Which…"

"Dean, course it’s Dean, it’s always Dean." Rufus scowls some more. "Sam ain’t got a bad bone in his body, but Dean is always up to somethin’. Know you got a soft spot for the kid, but he’s trouble, you mark my words."

_You have no idea._ Gabriel bites back a sigh. "What’d he do to get himself a turn with the after-school bunch?" he asks.

"Punched Gordon Walker in the nose."

Gabriel’s first thought is that Gordon probably deserved it. His second thought is to chastise himself for the first thought. His third is… "Wait, detention? He isn’t suspended?" The school has a strict no fighting policy and it rarely gets waived for anything.

Rufus sniffs. "Well. Walker boy might’ve earned a punch. Might've earned more'n a punch, you ask me. Sayin’ some nasty shit about the kid brother, and Dean wasn’t the only one lookin’ to start somethin’. Just the only one stupid enough to get caught doin’ it. Lucky he only got a week's detention with yours truly."

Gordon’s had it in for Sam since the boy started at the school. Seems to think he’s the antichrist or some such bullshit, and Gabriel’s taken exception to it himself once or twice. Gordon is usually smart enough to keep his more vile opinions out of earshot of the faculty, though, which means there isn't much any of them have been able to do about it. Personally, Gabriel wants to congratulate Dean on getting a good hit in, but for a lot of reasons, that’s probably (definitely) not a good idea.

This is already more of a mess than he’s cut out to deal with. Supervising his…his _what the hell are they?_...in detention. A reminder of just who and what they are in this school, not to mention the start to every bad student/teacher porno out there.

Not that this is going the turn out like those do. But it’s the principle of the thing.

He can’t back out now, though, not after telling Rufus that he’d do it, not without making the already paranoid man deeply suspicious. 

Fantastic.

*

"You're an idiot," Gabriel mutters the moment Dean slouches into the room.

Dean's shoulders slump and he drops his bookbag at his usual desk before taking a seat and looking deeply dejected. "Yeah. I know." Then he scowls. "But you didn't hear the shit he was saying, about Sammy."

There are a lot of things Gabriel could say to that, starting with, "I'd have decked him too", but instead he sighs, nodding towards the bucket and washcloth he set down next to the blackboards on the side of the room. "Just…clean the boards. All of them. And then do homework or something. Please just don't talk."

"I…" Dean stops, takes a breath, then nods. "Yeah, okay."

It's a very tense hour, broken up only by the sounds of Dean first scrubbing at the boards, water occasionally sloshing in the bucket, and then by the flipping pages of his Calculus textbook. Gabriel tries not to hear the overly-loud ticking of the clock on the wall, but it beats in his eardrums anyway as he tries and fails to focus on grading essays. Normally an extra hour in Dean's company would be a welcome distraction, a pleasant reward for getting through the rest of the day, but like this…

It's a relief when the late bell finally rings and Dean slams his book shut and jumps up from the seat, packing his things away faster than Gabriel has ever seen him move. He's slinging his bag over his shoulder and halfway to the door when Gabriel finally manages to find his voice.

"Dean."

Dean stops, hand clenching at his side, and turns, not quite able to look at Gabriel.

"Let's not do this again anytime soon, yeah?" Gabriel says, quiet. "'Cause honestly Winchester, it kinda sucked."

Releasing a slow breath, Dean nods, then raises his gaze to meet Gabriel's. "I'm going to steer clear until the week of detentions is over. Just…doesn't feel right, otherwise, even if Mr. Turner is supervising the rest. I know I fucked up, even if Gordon—" He stops himself, huffing out another breath that sounds more like a growl. "It's a good reminder, though. What's on the line."

"Okay," Gabriel says, glad that it was Dean who suggested it so he didn't have to.

"I'll, um. I'll…see you next week, then?" Even from across the room, Gabriel can see the way Dean's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

_Please,_ Gabriel thinks, but only says, "Count on it." He quirks the corner of his mouth up in the smallest of smiles, and it seems to put Dean as ease, the tense line of his shoulders softening as he nods again.

Dean leaves, and Gabriel leans back with a sigh, rubbing a weary hand over his face and through his hair before finally standing to collect his own things and get the hell out of dodge. His eyes fall to Dean's desk as he's shoving his book into his messenger bag and he pauses, shakes his head, smiles.

The Hershey Kiss has been placed innocuously right at the corner of Dean's desk, and when Gabriel picks it up, he can clearly make out the two words written on the tag. _I'm sorry._

*

True to his word, Dean stays well clear of Gabriel's domain for the rest of the week, and Sam, proving himself much more observant than Gabriel expected (or, perhaps, was simply hoping), hangs back after class on Thursday to mention it.

"Did Dean do something stupid?" he asks without preamble, frowning.

At first, Gabriel thinks he's talking about the fight. "Well, punching people is generally against school rules, so…yeah, you could say that was pretty dumb."

But Sam shakes his head. "No, I mean, to you." He chews a bit on the inside of his bottom lip. "It's just, he's been spending lunch period with me and my friends, and it's weird. He's always here at lunches. I thought maybe he did something to make you mad." He squirms a little. "I guess I wanted to see if there was something I could do. Dean's an idiot, but…"

"Oh, Sam." Gabriel grins, touched. "No, I'm not mad at your muttonhead of a brother, not even for the fight with Gordon. I have some extra work this week and told him to go bug some other people for a few days, that's all."

"Oh!" Sam looks visibly relieved. "That's good. I just, I know you're our teacher and everything, well mine anyway, now, but Dean doesn't do friends very easily and I think he kind of counts you. He's been a little down this week and I just thought…" His face going red, Sam shrugs. "Anyway. Sorry, it's not even really my business."

Gabriel gives him a smile, tries to feel it more than he does, with Sam inching closer all the time to deeply uncomfortable truths. "Of course it is, he's your brother and you love him and you want to look out for him. I get that. No worries, okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay. Also, um. Dean's gonna be so pissed if he finds out I was here having, like, feelings on his behalf. Um, can you maybe…not mention that?"

Gabriel does laugh at that, a real one, and holds out his pinkie finger. "Pinkie swear," he says, laughing again when Sam links their pinkies together to seal the pact, also grinning in a mildly self-deprecating sort of way that Gabriel recognizes from personal experience.

"Thanks, Mr. G." With a last grin and a short wave, Sam heads out the door to his next class.

"Well," Gabriel says to the empty room. "This is going to find a way to bite me in the ass." He has no reason to think that, not really, but he knows it all the same.

The empty room does not answer back.

*

Dean hands him the next Kiss directly, the Monday following his week of detentions, and if his fingers linger against Gabriel's for longer than they should, Gabriel chooses not to say anything as his eyes catch on the message: _Miss me?_

_Yes,_ he thinks. "Time served help you learn your lesson?" is what he says, pocketing the candy because it's easier not to acknowledge it out loud.

"Yup. Don't get caught." Dean smirks as he drops down into his seat, the seat that has sat far too empty during the last several lunchtimes.

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but concedes the point with a shrug. "That's probably fair," he mumbles, and Dean's grin widens.

"So Mr. Laufison, any big winter break plans?" he asks. Christmas is on Saturday and classes are letting out for break after a half day Wednesday.

Gabriel shakes his head, then hesitates, shrugs. "Well…not really. But there's this dog at the local shelter. It's probably a bad idea but what's one more bad idea in a long line of them, am I right?" _At least this one can't get me fired. Or worse._

Dean looks delighted. "You're gonna adopt a dog?" he demands. "Oh man, Sammy always wanted a dog but Mom was too busy and Dad never allowed it. He'll go nuts if he finds out."

"Nothing set in stone yet," Gabriel says. "But he's been there a long time, and…I don't know, thought it might be nice to have the company."

"I think it's a great idea," Dean tells him firmly. "Does he have a name? What kind of dog? How old is he?"

"I get the feeling you might be biased," Gabriel says with a surprised laugh. "I had no idea you were a dog person, Winchester. I've been calling him Loki, he's a middle-aged Jack Russell with about as many issues as I have. Match made in Heaven."

"Sounds like it," Dean agrees, missing the sarcasm entirely, or possibly ignoring it on purpose.

Most likely ignoring it on purpose.

Gabriel has a sudden urge to invite Dean to come with him to meet Loki, wants him there when Gabriel fills out the paperwork and finally brings the dog home. It's stupid, it's about nine hundred kinds of stupid, but god, Gabriel wants him there.

He can't. There's no way. He clears his throat, trying for a casual tone as he stamps down brutally on the urge. "What are you boys up to with your temporary freedom?"

Dean's mouth twists. It's not a happy twist. "Kind of undecided. Mom's going out of town again to be with our grandfather. He's been doing real bad since our grandma died last year, and I think Mom's worried she doesn't have a lot of holidays with him left. We could go with, but the stress of extra guests might be too much for him, even if he won't admit it. Mom feels guilty as hell, but me and Sammy can have a great Christmas on our own if we have to. There's always Dad's, but everybody agreed that wasn't happening."

_Thank Christ,_ Gabriel thinks, bitterly remembering the last time Dean was in his father's clutches, and how it resulted in a bullet in his leg.

"So, we'll probably just have a quiet break, homework and eggnog, a few presents Christmas morning, lots of Chinese take-out so we don't burn the house down." Dean grins at him, shrugs. "Could be worse, honestly." His eyes find Gabriel's again and hold. "Guessing you don't do much for the holiday," he says, the words careful.

"No," Gabriel says shortly. _I hide. I drink so I don't remember. I pretend it doesn't exist._ His back twinges, phantom pain from scars long healed. He scrubs a hand across his face. "But listen, if you're going to be in town with nothing to do…you think Sam might enjoy a trip to the shelter?" The words trip out before he can stop them, and he hastily adds, "I was going to drag Cas with me on Thursday morning, but honestly, the more the merrier if you and Sam want to tag along."

He _had_ thought of asking Castiel, it's definitely not _entirely_ a lie to cover for the fact that he doesn't trust himself around Dean outside of the school without a chaperone older than fourteen.

Dean is smirking at him like he knows exactly what's going on in Gabriel's sick, sick head, but he also looks happy, like he's touched that Gabriel even asked. "You sure?" he asks. "I know Sam would love it, but I don't wanna put you in a rough spot." There's the smallest crinkle between his eyes now, and his smile is dimming the longer he thinks about it.

"I'm sure," Gabriel says softly.

"Okay, but if you change your mind, if it starts to seem like a bad idea, I get it," Dean tells him, speaking fast. "I won't be angry or upset or anything. I really don't want—"

"I know, Dean." Gabriel wraps his fingers around the Kiss in his pocket, allowing the corners of his mouth to tick up. "It's okay. This is a pretty small thing. And Cas'll be there. All above board and copasetic."

Dean hesitates for only another moment, and then he nods, another grin lighting his features. "Okay then. We'll be there."

*

"Oh, Gabriel." Castiel's sigh rings clearly down the phone line and directly into Gabriel's brain, where it lodges like a particularly rabid parasite.

He does, however, agree to go, which is a pretty fair trade-off all around.

*

"Hi, Mr. G!" Sam greets as he and Dean enter Midway Animal Shelter bright and early on Thursday morning. If either is annoyed to have to be awake before noon on their first full day of the break, they're keeping it well hidden. "Hi, Castiel!" Sam adds when he sees Gabriel's brother standing off to the side, chatting with the woman at the desk.

"Heya, Sam, Dean." Gabriel gives them both a wide grin and claps his hands together, turning to the desk. "Okay, all present and accounted for! Lead on, good madam."

Jody, who is both happily married to Midway High's own Bobby Singer, and has been dealing with Gabriel's visits for a few months now (he's gotten good at timing his visits to her volunteer schedule, since she's much easier to deal with than the chatterbox Charlie or the probably-sociopathic Lilith, and so far she doesn't seem to have caught on), rolls her eyes at him as she steps out from behind the desk. "You know the drill, Gabe. He spooks easily, so no sudden movements, no lunging to pet him, and try not to come at him from the left side." She nods to Sam and Dean. "I will not hesitate to remove you from the premises if you piss off me or scare Loki or any of the other animals."

Sam is already nodding sagely, but Dean blinks, then squints at her. "Aren't you the sheriff?" he asks after a moment.

Her grin reminds Gabriel of the shark in Finding Nemo. "Yeah. So you know it's not a bluff."

"Roger that," Dean says with a gulp, and even Castiel is hiding a smile behind his hand as Jody leads them into the kennel area.

Loki does spook easily, and with good reason, but he's gotten used to Gabriel and perks up excitedly when he draws near. Jody leads him out of his crate and he limps out and immediately up to Gabriel, who's seated himself cross-legged on the floor. Loki climbs into his lap and curls up.

Castiel seats himself several feet across from Gabriel, tilting his head and smiling at the dog from a distance designed to make Loki feel safe. "You said he had some issues?" he asks.

Sam and Dean have been hanging back a bit, but now Sam sits near Castiel and coos at Loki, waggling his fingers enticingly. Loki eyes him but doesn't move.

"His old owner abused him," Gabriel says, scritching Loki behind the ears. The dog closes his eyes in apparent rapture. "Kept him on a chain in the yard in all weather, for hours at a time. Kicked him around. Loki lost his eye and shattered his leg when the assclown decided to hit him with his car, I guess hoping it would look like an accident. A bystander scooped up Loki and brought him to the vet and reported the owner, who'd already driven off."

"Poor little guy," Sam says sadly.

Gabriel is all too aware of Dean's presence at his back, but finally Dean crouches down beside him, close enough for Gabriel to feel some of his warmth.

"This okay?" Dean asks, holding his hand out tentatively, palm up.

Loki shies just a little, but then inches his nose forward, sniffing at Dean's hand. After a long moment in which Gabriel senses both he and Dean are holding their breath, Loki's tongue darts out and licks Dean's fingers. Dean laughs. Gabriel's heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest in a deeply messy, painful explosion.

Gabriel makes the mistake of looking up as Sam crawls over to try his luck, and catches Castiel's gaze. Cas doesn't look upset, or reproving, doesn't look sad or angry or judgmental.

He looks resigned, and he looks worried. And even with all that, he still smiles at Gabriel, an honest smile, an almost _glad_ smile, and that somehow hurts most of all.

*

"I think Loki will be good for you," Castiel says in a too-casual tone as they enter Gabriel's house. Dean and Sam said their goodbyes outside the shelter after the paperwork was done and Loki officially belonged to Gabriel, and Gabriel had not been entirely surprised a minute later to find a Hershey Kiss sitting on the hood of his car. There was no note this time, just a tiny heart.

It was enough.

"Yeah?" Gabriel says now, setting down the seven hundred purchases he and Castiel had picked out at the pet store. "My therapist seems to agree with you. Although it's possible she just got sick of me dithering about it for two months."

"How is therapy going?" Castiel asks curiously, bending down to place Loki on the floor to explore at his leisure. Loki stands frozen, undecided, before he begins sniffing around the living room, limping from one sunspot to the next; the bad leg doesn't seem to slow him all that much.

"It sucks," Gabriel says. "But it always does." He starts sorting the purchases for Loki, pulling tags off to give his hands something to do, his eyes someplace else to go. "It's good, though. I think. I'm not going to be inviting the fam around for the holidays and singing songs while roasting chestnuts or anything, but I don't have panic attacks every time I think about it. We're down to every other time, mostly." He snorts. "Maybe by the time I'm fifty, I'll be able to say the word _Christmas_ without my whole body seizing up in terror." He shudders even as he says it, a response he physically can't help even now.

Castiel pats his shoulder. "You're not even thirty yet, Gabriel, give yourself some credit. You came a long way even before you started seeing your therapist again. We both have."

Gabriel acknowledges this with a sigh, reaching up to clasp his younger brother's hand. "You're right. Just wish it felt that way more often."

"I suppose you haven't spoken with her about…" Castiel trails off as he settles beside Gabriel on the floor, picking up the small dog bed and carefully peeling labels and tags off.

"No," Gabriel snorts, and notes that Castiel looks relieved. "No, that's…I don't know what that is, but it's not for her to get to dissect." He finally chances looking at Castiel directly. "Do you…what do you…" He can't finish the question, swallows harshly instead.

Castiel is silent for a long moment. "I know that Dean will be eighteen in less than a month. I know you've refrained from inappropriate conduct with him while in a position of authority. I know that it tears you up inside, wondering if you're a bad person, wondering if you're corrupting him and his chances at a future somehow. For what it's worth, the simple fact that you fear that makes it deeply unlikely, in my opinion." Castiel pauses again, then says, quieter. "I know you're in love with him."

The blow lands dead center, knocking the breath from Gabriel, and he clenches his hands around the squeaky bone he's holding, which makes a pathetic noise as it's mangled. "Yeah," he whispers. "How 'bout that."

Castiel reaches over and takes his hand, pulling it away from the poor dog toy and holding tight. It's enough to make Gabriel blink, coming back to himself a little. They've never been particularly touchy-feely with each other, growing up in a family where even the smallest of comforting touches was a punishable offense. It helps, though. It grounds Gabriel, just a little.

"It's going to be okay, Gabriel," Castiel tells him, calm and sure.

"You really believe that?" Gabriel asks, afraid of the answer. Needing to know.

"I do."

*

Having Loki around _is_ good for Gabriel. He's an easy dog to care for from day one, and already trusts Gabriel from all his visits to the shelter. He acclimates to the house easily, has no problems with house training, and happily sleeps curled in a ball at the end of Gabriel's bed the very first night he's there. The second, he migrates up a few inches, then a few more, and by the time Gabriel wakes up on Saturday morning, he's curled up on the pillows next to Gabriel's head.

Gabriel doesn't mind at all, because Loki lets Gabriel pet him, and hug him, and bury his face in his fur to block out the sounds of Christmas happening on the street outside the safety of the four walls surrounding him.

He gets through this Christmas the same way he gets through all of them: sheer force of will. But having the dog to take care of keeps him from getting lost in too-dark thoughts, gives him something to crawl out of hiding for. It's a blessing, and while he hadn't chosen the timing of bringing Loki home for any specific reason except it coincided with multiple days off, it's a happy coincidence all the same.

He and Castiel text later in the evening, checking in on each other without being blatant about the fact that they're checking in on each other. Gabriel sends his brother a photo of Loki gnawing on a slipper with the caption "what a stereotype". He gets back a short video of Meg in Castiel's kitchen making chili and singing something from the _Rent_ musical, of all things.

She's way too cool for Gabriel's dweeb of a brother. He's so damn glad Castiel has her.

It's probably the best holiday Gabriel can ever remember. Gabriel knows better than to think he's perfectly fine, "cured" or whatever, but goddamn it feels good to feel like it's almost a normal, regular day.

He ends the day in bed reading a book, one hand resting on Loki, allowing himself to be comforted by the simple warm presence. Loki's head rests on his leg as he dozes, and Gabriel grins down at him.

That night, there are no nightmares, and that is its own little miracle.

*

On the thirty-first of December, around nine o'clock in the evening, Gabriel is flipping mindlessly through too many television channels, wondering if he feels like staying up to ring in the New Year, when he hears a soft knock on his front door. He raises an eyebrow at Loki, whose head has popped up, ears twitching.

"Now who could that be?" Gabriel wonders out loud, but if Loki knows, he remains mum about it.

Gabriel heaves himself up from the couch and pads out to the entrance hall, wondering if maybe it's his brother or cousin come to force New Year's festivities on him.

But it's not Anna or Castiel blinking and grinning sheepishly from the front step. It's Dean, hands buried in his pockets, bundled up in a heavy coat and scarf and hat to fit the snowy chill from outside. Not to mention disguising him from any curious neighbors. Gabriel wonders if that was intentional.

"Dean," Gabriel says, and he notes as though from a distance that there's no surprise in his tone.

"Hey, Mr. Laufison." Dean rubs at the back of his neck with a gloved hand, face going sheepish. "I'm sorry, I know it's late. Mom just got home a couple hours ago, and I told her I was going to a classmate's house for a New Year's party. But actually, I, uh. I wanted to give you this." From the depths of his coat pocket, he produces two small wrapped boxes, the paper decorated in snowflakes. "I didn't want to give them to you last week, because, well, I was trying to respect that you aren't a fan of that day. But I saw this and I thought of you and—"

"Would you like to come in, Dean?" Gabriel asks, mouth quirking even as his heart gives a harder-than-normal _thump_. "I can't promise the boozy shenanigans of your classmates' parties, but I have Presidential Scrabble and a dog who seems to like you, as I recall. How's that for entertainment?" He waggles his eyebrows, making Dean laugh.

"That…actually sounds pretty amazing," Dean says. His eyes are sparkling when he steps into the warmth of the house. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands – they fumble the zipper of his coat as he rushes to peel off his outer layers and then hang uselessly at his sides as he waits for direction.

Gabriel nods towards the living room. "I'll grab the game and some snacks, you can go say hi to Loki."

Some of the nervous tension leaves Dean's shoulders as his grin flickers out again, and he heads towards the living room with no further prompting needed. Gabriel goes upstairs to the game cupboard. He stares down at the Scrabble box, fingering his phone. Wonders if he should call Castiel, but…he doesn't want to. Cas would offer to come over, maybe even with Meg, and it might even be fun.

But Castiel's biggest question to Gabriel has always been, _do you trust yourself?_ And in this moment, on this night, Gabriel does. He trusts himself right now, warm and relaxed on a snowy New Year's Eve. He just craves the quiet companionship Dean represents, the friendship they were building long before any of this happened. He genuinely wants that more than anything else right now. Surely that's okay? Just for tonight?

In the end, he settles for a text, for his own peace of mind. _Dean stopped by. Playing with Loki, might enjoy a game of Scrabble before I send him on his way. No worries._

_I'm not worried,_ Castiel sends back immediately, followed by, _Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, we'll speak tomorrow. Happy New Year, Gabriel._ He send a quick Happy New Year back and picks up the game again as he pockets his phone, feeling warm.

Dean is kneeling on the floor with a small rope, playing a gentle tug of war with Loki, whose whole body is wiggling with the force of his wagging tail as Dean laughs. At Gabriel's entrance, he falls forward, letting go of the toy with a groan. "You beat me, hellbeast. Fair and square. It's all yours."

Loki barks happily and trots away with his prize to the dog bed on the other side of the room. Dean sits back on his hands and grins up at Gabriel, who almost stumbles at the energetic leap of his heart.

"Table or floor?" he asks after clearing his throat, missing the innuendo entirely until it's too late to take it back. He feels his face flush and turns away quickly to walk into the kitchen for a bag of chips. Thank all the gods that ever existed in any man's beliefs, Dean seems not to notice any of it.

Dean shrugs when Gabriel re-enters the living room. "I'm okay with the floor if you are, old man."

Gabriel grumbles at him, settling himself cross-legged on the floor. Dean sits across from him. "Twenty-nine is not old, you can just shove it, Winchester."

Dean smiles angelically, unfolding the game board between them. "I warn you, I kick ass at Scrabble. Had to get good to keep my nerdy brother in his place."

"Famous last words." Gabriel smirks at him, picking his tiles.

Dean just raises an eyebrow as he takes the bag for himself. "Did you open your present yet?"

"No. And you shouldn't have gotten me anything anyway."

"Well, too late." Dean gives an unrepentant shrug. "You'll hurt my feelings if you don't open it. And Loki will be sad."

Gabriel pauses from contemplating his letters. "You got something for my dog?"

That stupid adorable red flush crawls over Dean's freckles. "Maybe. It's dumb, anyway, but—"

Well that settles it. Gabriel settles the boxes in front of him and eyes them. One is, indeed, labelled with a small pawprint. The box is very small and light, and makes a faint chiming sound when he shakes it.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Stop fondling it and open the damn thing already." He seems to realize what he said a second too late, because his ears go as red as his nose, and Gabriel can't help the snort of laughter.

He slits the wrapping open with his thumb, pulls it off in a single tug, and opens the box. Nestled on a piece of cotton is a small silver circular tag, like the kind owners put on dog collars. This one, though, doesn't have Gabriel's name and address. There's just a single word, the name "Loki" engraved on the tag in nordic runes that he recognizes from countless mythology books. "Well, wow," Gabriel says, his thumb tracing over the etched name. No standard engraving shop would be able to offer something like this, which means Dean found a specialty shop or did the job himself. Either way… "This is pretty great, Winchester." It's hard to speak around the lump in his throat, but he manages to whistle, and Loki scrambles over. It's no work at all to unhook his collar and add the tag from Dean to the simple information one Gabriel already had made. "Good boy," he tells Loki, giving him a pet as he hooks the collar back on. The two tags clink against each other as he heads back to his bed, but it's not an unpleasant sound. Gabriel thinks it'll be a nice reminder that he's not alone, when he hears it. "I really like Norse mythology," he says softly, still looking at the dog because it's easier than looking at Dean.

"I know," Dean says. "There were a bunch of books in the guest room when we stayed over, some looked pretty well-loved. Anyway, Laufison…"

Gabriel does look at him then, his eyes stinging a little. "I changed my last name the second I turned eighteen and left my father's house. I altered the spelling a bit from traditional though, because…" He shakes his head; that doesn't matter. Isn't the point at all. "Mythology stories were a comfort to me, as a kid. Kind of a lifesaver, honestly. I hid old discarded library books of Greek and Egyptian and Norse myths under my floorboards. The ones about Loki were always my favorite. I…thank you, Dean."

He sees Dean swallow. "Nothing to thank me for, it's the dog that owes me a cuddle-fest," he says, voice rough. "Anyway, you haven't even opened _your_ gift yet."

Gabriel isn't sure he can take any more, but he is intrigued in spite of himself. "I feel a little guilty I don't have anything for you."

"This is a pretty great gift all by itself," Dean says, then scoffs at himself. "Geez, that was Sammy levels of lame, ignore everything that comes out of my mouth right now, okay?"

"Nope." Gabriel grins at him, a little tremulously, and thumbs open the wrapping on the second box. This one is long and thin, and inside is an envelope. He raises an eyebrow as he shakes out a ticket. As he reads it, he feels his eyes grow wide. It's a roundtable discussion and signing with one of his favorite authors. "How in the hell—"

"You were sneaking time with his book about Pearl Harbor every day for a week, between classes and at lunchtime," Dean says, and good lord, he sounds smug now. "Sam keeps up with local bookstore events because he likes when the sci-fi and horror authors do signings, and he mentioned this one to me. It seemed geeky enough that you'd probably like it. It's not until March, but." He shrugs.

"This is amazing," Gabriel says, honestly. "I never would have known about this, and he's _incredible_ , the amount of research he does and the effort he goes to to get his hands on primary sources is just—"

"Oh yeah, _perfectly_ geeky," Dean says, smirking, and Gabriel reaches over to thwap him on the head with the box. Still, he's careful when he tucks the ticket back inside.

"I really don't have the words, Dean. _Thank you_ doesn't seem like enough. That was…really thoughtful." Insightful. Meaningful. Both gifts are enough to leave Gabriel floored. Despite Dean's careful casualness, Gabriel knows he must have put significant amounts of thought into this.

"'Thank you' is enough for me," Dean says, one corner of his mouth curved in a tiny smile. "Anyway, should we like…play this game, or what?"

It's enough to break the nervous, fluttery tension, the moment that was so thick you could cut it, and Gabriel goes back to studying his letters with something like relief, though that isn't quite the right word.

Contentment, maybe, is closer.

Dean wasn't wrong earlier in the evening when he said he was good – he tramples Gabriel at Scrabble, and Gabriel would demand a rematch if it wasn't almost midnight, which he tells Dean with a glare that promises later retribution.

Loki makes a grab for the bag of tiles as Gabriel is putting them away, and a multitude of the little wooden things fly everywhere. Dean laughs and moves to help Gabriel collect them, and by the time they're done, it's one minute till midnight and somehow Dean is now sitting next to him. They seem to realize it at the same moment, because Dean's eyes widen and he flushes a bit, but he doesn't move away.

Gabriel doesn't want him to move away.

"We could turn on the TV?" he asks. "Catch the fireworks?"

"I kinda prefer the quiet," Dean says, so Gabriel pulls out his phone so they can watch the clock tick over.

With twenty seconds left, Dean reaches out. Hesitates. Gabriel tracks the movement but does nothing to stop him as Dean finally seems to pluck up his courage and take Gabriel's hand, lacing their fingers together.

Ten seconds left. Gabriel's eyes find Dean's, catch and hold, battles waging and being lost and won and lost again in every fraction of a moment that passes.

Five seconds left. Dean moves closer, seems unaware that he has, but Gabriel can't miss it.

Four seconds. He raises a trembling hand, presses his fingers to Dean's mouth. Means for it only to gently stop him, but finds those fingers tracing the shape, the promise.

Three seconds. Dean's eyes close. He shudders.

Two seconds. Gabriel loves him, deeply and completely. Has no idea what to do with it, but there it is all the same.

One second.

Midnight.

"Happy New Year, Dean," Gabriel whispers, and presses a kiss to the furthest corner of Dean's mouth. Dangerous. Electrifying. Stupid. Terrifying.

Almost perfect.

Dean rests his forehead to Gabriel's, his sigh mingling with Gabriel's uneven breath. "Happy New Year, Gabriel."

*

The universe decides to cut Gabriel a break, and January passes quickly once the new term begins. Dean is busy with the next part of his senior project and finishing college applications, and Gabriel is busy with last-minute recommendation letters for several students. They continue to enjoy lunches together, but even then, both are working and there isn't much in the way of conversation.

Dean's eighteenth birthday passes quietly, and if Gabriel dwells a bit on the significance of it, of how much closer that means they are to the finish line, to graduation…he doesn't say anything to Dean. Just leaves a Hershey Kiss in Dean's bag with the words _Happy Birthday_ written in his own untidy scrawl, the first Kiss he has ever left for Dean.

Throughout the rest of the month, Gabriel continues battling the monsters of his childhood in therapy, calls Castiel regularly, and gets back to his biweekly Monday night drinks with Anna. For the first time in a long time, and more than a little ironically, he feels like his life is fairly well together.

It's easier not to think about how laughable that is.

Early February is not nearly so pleasant.

"I heard from my dad," Dean says. He's munching on a granola bar and not looking at Gabriel and the words come out more like a mumble, like he's trying very hard to make them into not a big deal.

None of that stops Gabriel's metaphorical hackles from rising. "Oh?" He tries for a deliberately nonchalant tone, knows Dean sees right through him at the answering snort.

"He says he wants to talk, just me and him. Asked if I could drive out there this weekend." There's a wrinkle between Dean's furrowed brows as he stares hard at his desk, and Gabriel wishes he could come closer, reach out, smooth out both the mar on his skin and the stress in his eyes.

"Are you going to go?" Gabriel asks. It's an effort not to make it a demand, but it's not his place to demand anything of Dean, and certainly not when it comes to his father, no matter how much Gabriel wishes he could keep Dean away from the man forever.

Dean nods, slowly. "I don't always like him, and his methods for raising a kid pretty much suck, but. He's still my dad. He did the best he could. I think…I think the war messed him up pretty bad, more than either he or Mom ever wanted to admit. It's not his fault, but it is his fault he never got help. But he asked, didn't order, which for John Winchester is sort of progress anyway." He sighs. "Mom and Sam aren't happy. And Mom's working all weekend, so she's _really_ unhappy, although it doesn't really make a difference, which I tried to tell her."

"Bet she didn't take that too well." Gabriel won't readily forget her vitriol towards John Winchester last summer.

"Nah, you know, she wants to be Supermom. She tries, anyway. She's been really stressed out about something lately but she's not talking about it, just keeps pretending like everything is fine. But even she said I was 'old enough to decide for myself if I wanted to allow him any part of my life'. That's a direct quote." Dean releases another sigh. "It's not that I really _want_ to go, honestly. I just feel like I owe it to him. Is that stupid?"

"My answer might be biased," Gabriel reluctantly admits, because what he wants to say is, _Hell yes it's stupid, the bastard shot you!_ He doesn't care if it was an accident, it was a stupid and avoidable accident that could have killed Dean. Gabriel really doesn't like thinking about it, and he really hates John Winchester.

"That's fair," Dean says, glancing up at Gabriel with a little smile that pings directly into Gabriel's heart and lodges there. "Well, I'm going either way. Just this once. Maybe clear some air, even if you and Mom and Sammy don't think he deserves it." His jaw clenches. "I have to."

"I get that." Gabriel doesn't, not really, but he does understand Dean's stubbornness, and his sense of fairness and justice. He's watched Dean grow into it for the last four years, and it's part of what Gabriel loves about him, so it's not like he can fault him for it now.

"Just…if things get bad…" Dean looks up quickly. "I don't think they will!" Gabriel is not reassured but lets him continue. "But just in case, is it okay if I call you?"

"Dean…" Gabriel can't help the hesitation. Phone calls are dangerous for a hundred different reasons. It's one thing in a summer emergency with their mom out of town, but anything else is so risky. It's one of those very firm lines he'd drawn right at the start of the school year, and Dean hasn't dared try to cross it up to this point.

Dean's already nodding. "It's cool, I get it, it was dumb to even ask—"

" _Dean,_ " Gabriel says again, exasperated this time. "You know why that rule is in place, but I don't want you cut off from everyone you trust if you need someone, whether for your physical wellbeing or mental." _I know the kind of shit that comes out of your father's mouth._ "And I know why you might not want to call your mom instead." He sighs. "It can't be me, for a lot of reasons, including the fact that there's a serious danger I might drive there and kill him if he hurts you." He tries not to see the smile that flickers over Dean's face as he admits that, and continues, "But would you feel okay calling Castiel if you had to?"

"I…yeah, I could do that," Dean says, after a long moment of thought. "I trust Cas."

Gabriel isn't so lost in his head that he doesn't realize how huge a declaration that is. "He'd be glad to know that," he says, soft. "Dean, I hope you understand why I can't—"

"I do," Dean cuts in, his eyes now firmly fixed to Gabriel's. "Emergencies only makes sense, it's a good rule."

"Okay." Gabriel releases a slow breath.

Dean glances at the clock, sighs when he realizes lunch is almost over and starts packing up his stuff. Before he leaves, he steps closer to the desk, takes a quick glance at the empty doorway before turning back to Gabriel. He reaches over and takes his hand, too quickly for Gabriel to react, and gives it a brief, gentle squeeze. "Thanks for looking out for me," he says, and vanishes before Gabriel can try to speak past the gigantic _something_ suddenly wedged in his throat.

_It won't always be like this,_ he thinks, and has to close his eyes for a moment against the wave of hopeless longing that hits him for that nebulous future.

*

Dean leaves for his father's directly after school on Friday, and Gabriel doesn't think about it, honest, he swears. He buries himself in grading, and when that only lasts him through Saturday morning, he buries himself in catching up on his DVR queue.

Neither is a particularly effective distraction. Loki tries, but even he can't take Gabriel's mind off his worry for Dean, alone with his father for the first time since that disastrous "hunting accident". By Sunday, he's practically climbing the walls, and when his doorbell rings in the middle of the afternoon, he yanks the door open with enough force that it slams hard into the wall.

Castiel raises an eyebrow at him. "I see you're coping well."

"What are you—" Gabriel stops, trying to remember if they had an appointment to meet this weekend that he'd forgotten about, but nothing comes to mind, which can really only mean one thing. "Is Dean okay?" he demands. When Castiel only blinks calmly at him, he fights down a few harsh expletives and steps aside, letting his brother in and shutting the door behind him.

He's very proud that it doesn't slam this time.

They go into the living room, Gabriel growing tenser with every step, his jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth should probably be cracking. Castiel takes a seat in his favorite chair, doesn't seem at all surprised when Gabriel remains standing, arms crossed.

"Well?" Gabriel asks.

Castiel, who has never rolled his eyes at anything in his entire life as far as Gabriel is aware, rolls his eyes at him. "I understand you have a one track mind these days, Gabriel, but really. A hello wouldn't hurt. Maybe a minor pleasantry or two."

Gabriel growls.

"Dean is fine," Castiel finally relents, and Gabriel sags at the instant wave of relief. "Though angry, and upset. Understandably so."

Gabriel allows himself to sit gingerly on the edge of a couch cushion. "What happened?" he asks, not sure he wants to know, especially when Castiel sighs.

"Understand, I'm only here telling you _anything_ because Dean asked me to. He seemed to think you'd drive yourself mad if you didn't hear a word." Another pointed eyebrow. "And he didn't want you to worry if he's out of sorts at school tomorrow."

Gabriel spreads his hands. "Sorry, bro. Guilty as charged."

Castiel's mouth quirks, but then he frowns again, looking down at his own hands, which are folded together between his legs. "The weekend started well enough, from what I understand. Dean's father came around to his plans for college, though Dean says he wasn't thrilled that his eldest son had no desire to join some branch of the military as he apparently thinks all young men should do. John was already angry when he arrived, Dean said. He still lacks his past mobility, and is confined to a wheelchair. He's had several setbacks from overdoing things, trying to get himself up and moving faster, which Dean didn't seem surprised about. John is furious about it, but I've been promised he never took that anger out on Dean."

_That Dean would admit to,_ Gabriel supplements, but only in his head, not willing to interrupt Castiel now that he's finally getting to the point.

"I don't know much more of what they spoke of before this morning," Castiel says. "But as Dean was preparing to leave, his father apparently made a remark about how if Dean couldn't be a 'real man', he should at least prove himself by getting a…I'm quoting Dean here…'a goddamn girlfriend already, for fuck's sake'."

"Oh, hell," Gabriel exhales, heart sinking.

Castiel nods. "He apparently told Dean he should get on it quickly, before his classmates started thinking he was…gay."

"That wasn't the word he used." It's not a question.

"No." Castiel watches Gabriel as his jaw works. "Breathe, Gabriel. You're going to sit right here and breathe and not rush off to kill John Winchester."

_Are you sure?_ Gabriel doesn't ask it aloud, but it's a close thing, his mind already working over all the ways he could serve John some quality retribution for all the ways he's fucked Dean over, both in the past and now. He deserves to be punished, but no…as much as he wishes otherwise, it's not his place, and Dean wouldn't thank him for it. "Did Dean punch him in his smug asshole face like he deserved, at least?"

"Dean came out to him."

Gabriel had half expected it, all things considered, but it still knocks the breath from him, his heart aching at how Dean must have felt in those moments. _Jesus._

"He made it seem as if he didn't wait to see his father's reaction," Castiel continues. "He grabbed his bag and left. Managed to hold off what I can only assume was a hell of a panic attack until he was in his car and three blocks away. He pulled over immediately, and called me."

"Thank Christ for that," Gabriel grits out. He's on his feet again, working up to a good bout of angry pacing until Castiel reaches out and grabs him gently by the wrist, standing as well.

"He's all right, Gabriel," Castiel says, forcing Gabriel to meet his eyes. "Pissed off, but safe. He didn't even get back on the road until we were both sure he was capable of handling the drive. What his father did was terrible, yes, but the important thing is that Dean is all right. I'll repeat those words as often as I need to until it gets through your thick head. Dean is _all right._ "

"I hate this." Gabriel blinks, surprised to find his eyes stinging. "I hate that that bastard still has the power to hurt him. I hate that he had to come out like that. I hate that he felt like he had to come out at all if he wasn't ready for it. I hate…I hate…" He shudders out a breath.

"You hate that you can't be there for him." Castiel hasn't released his wrist, and he uses the hold to yank Gabriel into a stumbling hug. Gabriel flails, because they aren't _huggers_ , but then he finds himself clinging to Castiel like he's drowning, face buried in his brother's shoulder as he shakes. "Oh, Gabriel," Castiel sighs, and clutches him tighter.

"I'm sorry," Gabriel whispers. "I'm sorry I dragged you into my fucked up mess, I'm so—"

"Quiet," Castiel says, firm. Not pulling away even when Gabriel tries to retreat. "Just…" He sighs again, tightening his hold. "Just accept some comfort for once in your goddamn life, and stop apologizing for things you shouldn't apologize for. It's annoying."

Gabriel sags, feels the tears he can no longer hold back soaking into his brother's shirt. "You're a pretty good bro, bro," he says, and doesn't comment further when Castiel's laugh comes out more watery than it should.

Even then, his thoughts never leave Dean.

*

Dean doesn't appear for lunches or after school over the next three days, and the only thing that keeps Gabriel from exploding is that Sam continues to appear in class seeming perfectly fine. If Sam is still able to focus on his schoolwork, then Dean must be okay, at least enough to keep up appearances for his family.

Still, it's beyond a relief when Dean finally ducks into Gabriel's room after the last class of the day on Thursday, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hi," he says, too quiet, too hunched. He looks like he's waiting for a blow, and god, Gabriel hurts for him.

"Hi," Gabriel says back, already up and coming around his desk before his brain catches up. He reaches out and grabs for the front of the desk, fingers clamped so hard on the wood that they start to hurt almost immediately. It's an anchor, though. It stops him from reaching out. Stops him from touching, holding, sheltering.

"I, uh." Dean peeks up, carefully placing his bookbag on a random chair instead of just letting it drop carelessly like he normally would. He doesn't sit. "Castiel talked to you?"

Gabriel nods. "Are you…you're…good?" It's such a stupid question, anyone with eyes can see Dean's not any form of 'good', but what else can he say?

Dean nods, then shrugs. "Not really," he says, more honest than Gabriel might have expected. "Better than I was though. Um. Your brother gave me the name of a therapist. Not him, because, well. Yeah. But. Mom booked me an appointment basically the second I got home? That's where I was yesterday." He swallows. "It sucked a lot, holy shit."

Gabriel huffs out a laugh he barely feels. "Yeah. Yeah, it usually does."

"But after…I dunno, it's good I guess. Talking about it now. He." Dean's hands clench, and he crosses his arms across his chest in a defensive move Gabriel recognizes all too well. "I hate him. I really…I wanted to…but God, Gabriel, I hate him so much." His eyes close, and he swipes a hand across them fiercely, leaving wetness behind. " _Fuck,_ " he bites out, and that's it, that's all Gabriel can stand.

He crosses to Dean in four long strides and tugs him into his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispers as the younger man shakes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"He…called me a fucking f—" Dean chokes on the word, a harsh sob escaping as he clings to Gabriel in a damn near perfect mirror of how Gabriel was clinging to Castiel only a few days ago. "Told me no son of his would take it up the ass and it was no fucking wonder I was so shit at all the crap he tried to train me for. I didn't stick around to hear anything else. I couldn't…I couldn't…"

"Shh," Gabriel soothes, running one hand up and down Dean's back, the other twined in his hair, allowing Dean to bury his face in Gabriel's neck. "You're a better man than John Winchester could ever pretend to be."

"Gabriel…" Dean whispers. "Fuck, all I could think about was that everything he was saying about me, he was saying about you, too, and I just…I fucking _snapped_. I've never cared what he said about me, but you…you're so…"

Gabriel shushes him again, heart doing all sorts of crazy acrobatics in his chest at how much he cares for this punk, so much more than he ever knew it was possible to care for someone.

"I love you." Dean says it so quietly that for a moment, Gabriel thinks it's only an echo of his own thoughts, the rhythm of his heart beating the words he hasn't dared to say aloud. But then Dean keeps going. "God, I love you so much, Gabriel." He pulls away just enough to gaze at Gabriel for a single, endless moment, his hand rising, brushing Gabriel's cheek soft and careful like he's made of class, and Gabriel reaches up to clasp it. Dean's eyes close and he presses his forehead to Gabriel's.

Gabriel doesn't know how long they stand like that, everything silent and still except for their shared breaths and heartbeats. He's forgotten every carefully laid rule he ever made, every promise to keep them safe. He's forgotten who they are, what they are, _where_ they are, forgotten every possible reason that standing here, like this, is such a bad idea. There's nothing in his head except for Dean, and Gabriel's need to take care of him, be with him, love him the best way he knows how.

He doesn't register the sound of quick footsteps coming up the hall until a voice says, "Hey, Mr. G, have you seen—oh."

Gabriel wrenches away from Dean with a gasp, his heart stuttering like it might actually stop before it starts pounding frantically instead. He goes cold when his eyes land on Sam, stock still and wide-eyed in the open doorway.

"S-Sam," Dean says, running a trembling hand through his hair as his eyes dart from his brother to Gabriel. "Sam, fuck, that wasn't—"

"Dean?" Sam cuts in, voice small, and then he blinks, looking behind him as he steps further into the room. His bag drops as he nudges the door closed with his foot. Nobody makes any move to stop him; Gabriel's too busy trying to remember how to breathe and Dean just looks scared.

Oh, god, he looks so scared. Gabriel's fingers twitch and he fights down the extraordinarily stupid urge to reach out to him. _What the goddamn hell do you think got you into this mess?_ he chastises himself, way too little and too late.

Sam stares at Dean for a long time, and then his eyes slide to Gabriel. "Mr. G, you're not going to lie and tell me that wasn't exactly what it looked like, are you?"

"Sam—"

"I'm talking to Mr. Laufison," Sam snaps at his brother, his eyes never leaving Gabriel's. "How long?" he demands.

"How long, what?" Gabriel asks. It comes out a croak.

"How long have you been sleeping with my brother?" Sam's eyes are fierce, and kindle like wildfire when Dean suddenly starts laughing, a hysterical edge to the sound.

"Sammy, we're not—"

"Don't cover for him, Dean!" Sam whirls on him, fists clenched. "I'm not an idiot! I _trusted_ him!"

The laughter stops as abruptly as it started. "I swear, Sam," Dean says, holding his hands up. "We're not sleeping together. I wish to god we were, my whole damn life would make way more sense."

Gabriel feels his face redden, and he clears his throat, drawing Sam's attention back to him. "Dean's telling the truth, Sam. We've never…been together like that. Intimately. What you saw—"

"Was real," Dean cuts in, gaze flicking to Gabriel. _I won't lie, not to Sam,_ his eyes say, and Gabriel knew that before he ever said a word. Accepted it before this ever even started. Knew that if they were going to be caught by anyone, ever, it would be Sam Winchester, and there would be no escaping it once it happened.

Gabriel nods. "It was. But it's also…on hold." He swallows. "Sam, I wasn't lying, I wouldn't lie to you. I know what it looks like and I know you have no reason to believe me, but everything that might happen between us has been put on a backburner until Dean graduates. _Everything_."

"Except passionate embraces in the middle of an open classroom, obviously," Sam says snidely, eyes narrowed.

"Sam, you know what Dad did," Dean says, very quietly, and Sam goes tense all over. "I was explaining it to Gabriel because he was worried about me, and I kind of broke down." It looks like it physically pains him to admit that, and Sam's eyes go wide and stunned again. Dean, Gabriel knows, rarely admits weakness to anyone, including his little brother. "It shouldn't have happened, it _wouldn't_ have in literally any other circumstances, but I'm a mess this week and he was just trying to help. That's all."

Sam stands there staring at him for what feels to Gabriel like an extraordinarily long time, and then he sinks down into a chair. Slowly, Dean pulls out the chair by the desk next to him and sits as well. Gabriel stays standing until Dean's eyes flick from him to the empty desk in front of Sam, and he reluctantly lowers himself into the chair there, spinning it so he's facing the Winchester brothers head-on. Not unlike facing a firing squad.

"So…when… _how_ did this even…" Sam shakes his head. "I don't understand."

In any other circumstances, Gabriel would shoot back with a sarcastic remark. _That makes two of us, kiddo_ , or, _yeah, welcome aboard the crazy train_ , but Sam deserves better than that. "I'm not going to say anything as trite as 'it just happened', because that's not true. I think this was building for a while, starting last year when Dean stopped being my student and started being…my friend." Sam's watching him steadily, not giving Gabriel any kind of reaction to go on, so all he can do is push forward. "I didn't mean for it to happen, and god knows I wasn't looking for it, but…"

"I kissed him," Dean says, coughing. "On the last day of school. I mean, it was _barely_ a kiss, but it counted. And then I left us both thinking about it for months, and—"

"Wait, this was before…before we stayed with him? After the accident?" Sam looks angry again. "Was that why—"

" _No._ " Gabriel says, horrified at the thought, horrified at Sam _thinking_ the thought, He shakes his head firmly. "No, Sam, I'd been talking to Castiel, getting my head screwed on right, and I was one hundred percent determined I wasn't going to let it go anywhere, just write it off as teenage hormones and move on with my life, but. I was worried, I knew your dad was tough on you guys, so when I found out where you were, I gave Dean my number. Just in case. When you called, I acted on pure instinct, I just desperately wanted to make sure you were _both_ okay. That was the only thought in my head. I swear. I _swear_ to you, Sam."

Sam chews on his lip for a few moments, thinking. "Okay, but then how…" He waves a hand between the two of them, and Dean flushes.

"Well. I kind of…"

"Of course," Sam mutters, rolling his eyes and then scowling. "You did something stupid, didn't you?"

"We…talked. I was afraid I'd screwed up everything and he wouldn't even want to talk to me anymore, but." Dean swallows, flushing. "He didn't want to admit he felt anything, but I pushed. And I maybe…kissed him again. Just as we were leaving." Dean cowers at the look Sam graces him with. "He was really clear that nothing was going to happen, that even if he did have…you know, _feelings_ …at the very least, it had to wait until I graduated."

"Which unfortunately didn't stop those _feelings_ from growing," Gabriel admits, voice as dry as the Sahara. He hopes Sam can't hear the slight shake in it, knows that Dean does. Hearing the whole affair laid out like this is doing weird, unpleasant things to his insides. "Particularly when your brother started leaving mini love notes lying around. And…" He sighs. "What you saw today is nothing less than Dean did for me at Thanksgiving. This has just…kept building, for a while now." He hesitates. "I feel like I should apologize for it, but I don't think I'm capable of that, Sam. I don't know how to be sorry for this anymore."

Sam blinks at him, processing that, and then he nods, slowly. "I think…" He glances at Dean, who stares back at him imploringly, one hand clenched on the edge of his desk, knuckles whitening. "I think I believe you. Maybe that's…stupid, but you never seemed like you would take advantage of someone like that. I want to believe…I've known you almost as long as Dean has, and I really want to believe you wouldn't hurt either of us, on purpose or by accident. I've always trusted you."

"Sam…" Gabriel and Dean speak simultaneously, but Sam speaks right over both of them.

"But what happened today was really, _really_ stupid. You could have gotten Dean in serious trouble. And even if he didn't get in trouble because he's the student, or whatever, do you really think the student body would let this go if it got out? He still has months until graduation, and they'd make it torture for him! Imagine…imagine Gordon figuring this out. And _you_ , you'd get fired in a heartbeat, and you shouldn't…you're such a good teacher, and you love it, and _why would you be so stupid?_ " Sam doesn't shout the last part, he hisses it between clenched teeth, a different sort of anger taking over his features now.

"It was, it was really dumb," Gabriel acknowledges softly, because Jesus Goddamn Christ, it was. They've been getting more and more careless with their actions, and it was bound to catch up with them. God, they'd been so lucky to be caught by _Sam_ and not any of the hundreds of other people in this school.

The weight of that realization crashed into Gabriel all at once, and his vision starts to tunnel, breaths getting more and more shallow. _Fuck,_ he thinks desperately, _not now, please not now…_

But panic attacks don't take orders from anyone, and he drops his head into his hands and fights the vice tightening around his chest with something that sounds horrifyingly like a whimper.

"Mr. G?" Sam's voice seems to come from a long ways away. "Dean, what's—"

"It's a panic attack." Dean is closer, too close, too warm, his hand on Gabriel's arm. "Sam, make sure—" The rest of the words disappear in the ringing in Gabriel's ears, but he can feel Dean take his hands moments later, clasping them tightly and speaking slowly and clearly. "You're okay. Breathe with me, Gabriel. Come on." He counts out his breaths, in and out, in and out, and Gabriel does his best to match him, though every inhale hurts and every exhale feels like it's punched out of him.

It feels like it takes a long time to come out of it, but he does, slowly, trembling. Weak. "Dean?" he asks.

"You're okay," Dean says again. He's still kneeling by Gabriel's chair, holding his hands, and he releases a shaky breath of his own, lifting one of Gabriel's hands and pressing a lingering kiss to the knuckles before he stands, releasing him, moving away again. His eyes go to the door, where Gabriel realizes that Sam is standing, glancing out every few moments to make sure no one is coming.

This is what Gabriel's life has become.

_Fuck._

"You guys should go," he manages to say, barely above a whisper. They both look at him, worried, and he wants to burst into hysterical laughter for reasons he doesn't entirely understand, but he manages to keep it at bay. "Seriously. I'm okay."

"G—" Dean stops, swallowing. "Mr. Laufison?"

Gabriel didn't realize how much he needed that distance until Dean blessed him with it. "Really. I'm fine." He meets Dean's eyes and tries to seem steady enough to make him believe it.

Still, Dean hesitates until Sam speaks up. "Dean, we probably _should_ go. Mom wanted us home, remember? That's why I was looking for you. But, um. Can I meet you at the car? I need to talk to Mr. G for a minute alone."

Dean starts to speak, stops, glances at Gabriel.

Gabriel nods. "I'll see you later," he says, very determinedly not promising when _later_ might be.

"Okay," Dean says, sighing. He picks up his bag and leaves without another word or backward glance for either of them, and Sam watches down the hall until he's out of sight before turning back to Gabriel with a frown.

"You're really okay?" he asks, tentative.

"Think so," Gabriel says, trying to summon up a small smile. He still feels shaky, still feels _stupid_ , but both his therapist and Castiel have been helping him accept that panic is a thing he can't simply control, no matter how much he wishes he could beat it down with a sledgehammer and ignore it.

"You can't fake that," Sam says slowly. "That wasn’t just for me. Mom gets panic attacks sometimes, I know what they look like."

"I wouldn't have done that, Sam." It's like a stab to the gut that Sam even considered it.

"I know," Sam says. "And I really do believe you, about everything that happened and…well, hasn't happened, with Dean. He gets under your skin like a parasite, I get that." He grins at Gabriel's disbelieving laugh, then sobers again. "I know I can't make you promise anything, but you shouldn't see him again, not alone. Not until he's done here. And I think you know that."

"I do," Gabriel says, because he's been thinking it since the moment Sam appeared in that doorway. He'd probably been thinking it well before that, even if he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it.

"Okay. That's all I wanted to say," Sam says, shouldering his own bag. "That, and I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad Dean was here. I've never…" He bites his lip, glancing away out the door again, then back to Gabriel. "I've never seen him care about anyone like that before, except me and Mom." He hesitates like he wants to say more, but then disappears out the door and down the hall, following after Dean and leaving Gabriel alone with his thoughts and his fear and his despair.

*

There are no Hershey Kisses for a long time, after that.

*

Life goes on, though time insists on moving at an unrepentant crawl.

On Valentine's Day, Rufus and Bobby roam the halls, catching a record number of students cutting class to get their make-out on, and Gabriel offers to help oversee detentions to take his mind off his own lack of plans that day. He'd never had any to begin with, wouldn't have allowed himself to see so much as a glimpse of Dean, but it still aches.

At the author signing in March, he makes a fool of himself, gushing over how big a fan he is, geeking out about history nerd stuff that practically no one else would ever care about, but doesn't feel bad in the least when it nets him a laugh, a good chunk of the roundtable conversation, and a few fun messages scrawled alongside the author's signature in his books. The only shadow over the day is the knowledge that he can't share with Dean how much fun it was and how much he appreciated his gift.

Then there's St. Patrick's Day. While grabbing a box of shamrock sugar cookies at the grocery store, he sees Mary Campbell pushing her cart around to the next aisle and calls out a hello before he can think better of it, but she doesn't seem to hear him. He peeks around the aisle and she looks up, meeting his gaze with a startled jerk. "Oh! Mr. Laufison." She's frowning, looking perturbed. Gabriel hopes everything is okay at home, and with her father.

"Gabriel," he reminds her. "It's good to see you. I never got a chance to say goodbye after—"

"Yes," she interrupts, running her fingers through her hair and looking frazzled. Her eyes fall to his cart and narrow. "Big plans tonight?" she asks.

Gabriel blinks, then glances at his steaks and champaign. "My brother's birthday," he says slowly. "I'm having him and his girlfriend over to celebrate."

Mary nods distractedly, slumping a little. She seems frustrated. "Oh. Well…have a nice time. I'm really running late, I've got to get going. It was…well. Goodbye, Gabriel."

"Um. Bye?" he says, but she's already gone, and he's left feeling a deep sense of foreboding he can't quite shake. Maybe she's angrier about his abrupt departure from Thanksgiving than Dean realized? It would be understandable, it was so rude after the incredible meal she'd provided. But…

_You're getting paranoid, Laufison,_ he tells himself, but heads towards the checkout with his brow furrowed, replaying the interaction a dozen times in his head.

He forgets the shamrock cookies.

*

"You look tired, Gabriel." Castiel watches him over the rim of his coffee cup. Harvelle's Diner is crowded, the Saturday morning brunch crowd out in full force on this sunny May morning, but despite the crowds he knew they'd face, Gabriel was craving pancakes slathered in all the maple syrup he could stand, and wouldn't be deterred.

He shrugs at his brother. "Haven't been sleeping great," he admits. In fact, his eyes are burning with fatigue, and the brilliant, warm sunlight outside is only making his exhaustion headache worse.

"For how long?" Castiel asks, placing his cup down and gazing at Gabriel worriedly.

"A few months." Gabriel waves a hand. "But especially since Easter. Nightmares, you know. Having trouble shaking them this time. Really, it's no big. I'm fine. I'll be fine," he quickly amends at Castiel's darkening face. "Working through it in therapy. It's just been a long term, is all."

It's not a lie. The last few months have been strained, and not only because of a lack of Dean. His entire spring syllabus got demolished over some new requirements the school instituted without so much as a _by your leave_ , and he wasn’t the only staff member suffering for it. Added to that, the heatwave that started in April hasn't let up at all, and it's making both staff and students cranky as hell in their stifling classrooms.

And, okay, yeah. He misses Dean. He aches with it daily, even if he knows it's for the best. He's seen him a grand total of once since February, when Dean came by with Sam to show Gabriel the acceptance letter he'd received from KU.

He'd gotten a full ride, and holy hell was Gabriel proud of him. Wishes he could have done more than say the words from behind a desk that might as well have been an ocean separating them. Is desperately grateful that Sam was there to stop him from doing so.

In class, Sam sometimes gives him worried little frowns, or tries to smile at him reassuringly, which really just makes Gabriel feel worse all around. How much of a mess must he be that Sam is picking up on it? Trying to reassure him, even? Is he really that pathetic?

His saving grace is that he still finds joy in his work, loves teaching his kids, delights in those moments when he sees them finally _get_ something. So many people think history is just boring facts that have nothing to do with them, but Gabriel has always made it a point to highlight how historical events connect to current ones, and he knows he's done his job well when the kids start making those connections for themselves. He has a smart bunch in his classes this year, and his classes are still fun, if stressful.

Thank god for that. Thank god he can still be good at this one thing, no matter how much of a disaster the rest of his life is.

And it's not that bad, really. Things will calm down soon. If not this year, then at least he has the summer to prepare for next year a little better. There's only a few weeks left. He can handle it, and he tells Castiel as much.

"I don't doubt you can," Castiel says. "But I also wish you'd get some rest in between. Have you tried—"

"I tried sleeping pills, three different kinds, two of which were prescription. Really didn't like them." He makes a face. "Seriously, Cas, worst case, I'll sleep when the year is over and my stress levels aren't hovering somewhere around the stratosphere."

Castiel makes a scoffing sound. "When the year is over, I suspect you'll be too busy doing things very different than _sleeping_." He tilts his head, considering. "Though I suppose that's its own form of stress relief."

Gabriel chokes on the bite of pancake he'd just taken, and Castiel smirks, popping a forkful of scrambled egg into his own mouth.

*

There's been a ticking clock taking up residence in Gabriel's brain since a shared kiss one morning late last summer, counting down with increasingly loud _ticks_ to June third. Gabriel tries not to think about it too often, but when ten days dwindles down to nine, then eight, then seven…

Well, it's hard to stop the anticipation from bubbling up at odd moments. Hard to forget that in seven days…six…five…Dean will be free. That every promise they've barely dared to speak allowed will finally, _finally_ be able to be acted upon. Assuming Dean still wants…

But Gabriel won't allow himself to go there, no matter how rabid those particular brain weasels might be.

_Just get to graduation,_ he tells himself. _And then see what happens._

Good advice. Solid advice. Totally realistically possible and everything.

He's playing with Loki on Wednesday evening – _T-minus 64 hours and counting_ – when his doorbell rings. Unexpected doorbells ringing on weekday evenings are very rarely good omens, Gabriel has found, and it's with a sense of dread that he makes his way to the front door and opens it.

The dread takes root and grows at exponential rates when he sees Mary Campbell on his doorstep.

"Mary," he says. "Is everything all right? Would you like to come in?"

She doesn't answer the first question, but does step inside at the second. He wavy blond hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, which leaves her glittering eyes unshadowed and uncanny.

"Is there…can I get you something to drink?" Gabriel tries.

"I can't stay long," Mary says. "I have an early shift tomorrow."

The entryway of Gabriel's house is a large, airy space, but Gabriel still feels claustrophobic when Mary makes no move to go deeper into the house.

"You know, Gabriel," she finally says. "Dean would never admit it, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. My son can't hide anything, particularly from the people he loves." Mary snorts indelicately, even as Gabriel's heart _plummets_. "Though God knows he tried. A little too late, however." Her mouth twists. "He doesn't know this, doesn't actually know anything I'm about to tell you, and I've gone back and forth on a dozen different ways to handle the information. I saw you, on the front steps, at Thanksgiving."

_Oh, God,_ Gabriel thinks, eyes closing as he draws in a ragged breath.

Mary goes on, heedless of his mental breakdown. "I was…I'm not really sure _shocked_ covers it, actually. And then…well, I stormed around for weeks in a rage. Thought of calling Principal Shurley, or the school board directly, a hundred times."

"Why didn't you?" Gabriel manages to ask the question steadily. More steadily than he feels, anyway.

"At first, because I wanted to nail you to the wall with every shred of evidence I could find. I wanted to make you suffer, Gabriel Laufison." Her jaw is clenched, and that remembered rage shines in her eyes for a long moment before it clears and she sighs. "And then, after I had time to think about it, there were more reasons. The first was that anyone could see the pain you were in that day, and even in my anger, I blamed myself for that." She holds up a hand, forestalling his immediate denial. "It didn't excuse it, obviously, but it made it hard to tell myself it was just you taking advantage of a young man who looked up to you. People in positions of authority rarely let those beneath them see their weaknesses." She sounds like she's speaking from experience. "It was enough to make me curious, even mad as I was.

"The other reason is that Dean allows himself to care for so few people. He loves fiercely. I have no doubt he'd give his life in an instant for anyone he's claimed as family. But for so long, he also lived in the shadow of the people he loved. And…" Mary hesitates, shakes her head. "I've watched him this year. I feel like I've done nothing _but_ watch him, since that day. And I hated to admit this when I realized what I was seeing, but he's… _more_ , now. More himself. He has more confidence, he has dreams for himself. I don't know if you realize how big a deal that is."

"I do," Gabriel says quietly.

Mary nods. "Yes, I thought you might. You've seen those changes, too. You've been the catalyst for many of them."

Gabriel flushes. "I don't—"

"You are." Mary's eyes are sharp, her gaze firm, her words relentless. "Dean has grown into himself in a way I didn't think he would ever allow himself, when he was still too busy doing everything he could for me and Sam, with no regard for his own future. I…God, I hate this, but I think he could only achieve that growth by loving someone who put _him_ first." She takes a single step closer and crosses her arms, eyes fierce. She reminds Gabriel strongly of a lioness protecting her cub. "So, Gabriel. Do you? Put my son first?"

Gabriel swallows, shame and fear roiling in his gut, battling the tiny flutter of something that could almost be _hope_ in his chest. Hope for what, Gabriel doesn't dare think.

In any case, he can only be honest now. "I do. I always will, even if…" He can't bring himself to finish.

"Do you love him?" Mary asks.

"Yes," he tells her. Doesn't try to quantify it or justify it. Just a single word, a truth he feels flooding out of him every time he thinks of green eyes and freckles and a too-familiar grin and a too-big heart.

Mary nods again, clearly unsurprised. "I'm not proud of this, but I also won't apologize when I admit to you that I spied on him, maybe a little obsessively. I was sure of course, absolutely positive, that you were taking advantage of him. But I believe in having proof before leveling accusations, and what I saw on Thanksgiving wasn't enough, even if it was…worrying. I tracked his phone when I had to leave town; I was shocked when he stayed with Sam the whole time. On New Year's Eve, I stuck a small recorder in his pocket, turned on. He never noticed, and it was easy enough to retrieve when I did the laundry. I did the same on some of his school days, too. It was all very James Bond." She laughs at herself a little, shakes her head. "I heard a lot of interesting and not-so-interesting things, but never what I expected. I was wrong, and I hate admitting when I'm wrong. I've never been so glad to be in my life, though.

"You showed my son almost unfathomable respect, Gabriel Laufison. And Dean, who has never met a line he wouldn't leap over if it was in his way, gave you the same in return. I've had a lot of time to think about that. Months."

Gabriel has no idea how to respond to any of this, so he doesn't, just stands there, his heart jackhammering away in his chest.

"She's silent for a long moment, then, "Will you be attending the graduation ceremony this weekend?"

Gabriel blinks, his head spinning. Wonders if it's possible to get whiplash from a conversation. "Uh. No. I mean, teachers are only generally present – or invited – if they teach upper-level classes, and I don't. All my students are freshmen and sophomores."

"Well, then." Mary reaches into her bag, and pulls out an envelope Gabriel recognizes as the official commencement invitations that always go out to family members of graduating seniors. She holds it out to him, but all he can do is stare at it, his head filled with white noise and his limbs numb. "I'm inviting you," Mary says, clarifies, like that makes any sense at all, like this any form of logical, given everything else she's said to him tonight.. "We were given three, and I'm not letting John come, even if he wanted to. It would be a shame to see it go to waste." She smiles at him. It's not a particularly _warm_ smile, but it's still a smile. She's trying. Gabriel can't believe it, but she's trying. _Why?_ "Dean would want you to be there."

Gabriel takes it with shaking fingers. "Are you sure?"

"Not in the least." Mary shrugs. "But Dean is. Oh, he doesn't know about this," she says, waving a hand at the invitation. "He definitely doesn't know I'm even here right now, that we're having this conversation. He has no idea that I know, although I think I've worried him this year with how angry and stressed I've been. But I can see the writing on the wall, Gabriel. Dean was forced to grow up far too fast; sometimes it's easy for me to forget that, even though I was at least partially responsible for it. But the point is, I can't do anything at this point but trust him to know his own mind. And his heart. I'm not going to force him to feel like he has to choose between us, now that I'm reasonably sure you're actually as good a man as Dean thinks you are."

Gabriel, who hasn't even seen Dean in months, who misses him like a lost limb, whose heart is feeling like so much tenderized meat, finds himself leaning heavily against the wall as he stares down at the envelope in his hands like it holds all the secrets to the universe.

"Will you come?" Mary asks.

Gabriel looks up and meets her eyes slowly. "I will."

A little of that remembered warmth does enter her smile now. "Good."

*

Saturday dawns sunny and breezy and beautiful. Graduations for Midway High are always held indoors, which Gabriel thinks is a damn shame on days like this.

He practically leaps out of bed, feeds and walks Loki, showers, shaves, products his hair, finds clean slacks and a nice button-down shirt and tie. Normal things. Things he does every day before work. No reason for him to be staring at himself in the mirror, gulping, wondering if he looks okay or like he's trying too hard.

_Get a grip, Laufison._. He takes a deep breath. Loki barks at him and jumps on his leg, getting small white dog hairs all over the dark fabric.

Gabriel laughs, the tension suddenly lessening again. Dean won't care. Dean knows exactly who he is.

The Civic Center is packed with parents and grandparents and siblings and friends and faculty when Gabriel arrives. He knows the seniors are already inside getting ready; he specifically timed his arrival so he wouldn't interrupt Dean's pre-graduation time with his family. He has no idea if Mary told him Gabriel would be here or not, but if not, he'd rather leave it a surprise so Dean isn't distracted all through the ceremony.

Well, _more_ distracted, assuming he's already thinking about all the things today could theoretically represent for him. For…them.

"Mr. G!" he hears from behind him, and then Sam is there, beaming at him. "Mom told me you might be coming. Are you going to sit with us?"

"Of course he is," Mary says, coming up behind her son, gracing Gabriel with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you?" She doesn't sound like she's actually giving Gabriel much of a choice.

"I'm here by your invite," he says, offering her a smile he hopes doesn't look as timid as it feels. Apparently she's not quite done observing his every move yet. Honestly, Gabriel can't say he blames her.

"Gabriel! Hey, Gabriel!" Someone else in the crowd of people milling around calls out to him, and Gabriel glances around, spotting fiery red hair bobbing and weaving towards him until Anna suddenly emerges, smirking and punching him in the shoulder. "I should've known!" she says. "Of course you'd find a way to be here. Wild horses couldn't keep you away from _this_ graduation."

"Guilty," he tells her, giving her an easy grin.

"It's always the worst when it's one of ours favorites leaving, huh?" She sighs, but she's still smiling. "I know we're not supposed to have them, but everybody does. Two of my best kids are off to art school and I might actually cry when their names are called." She smiles at Mary and Sam. "Ms. Campbell, you must be so proud of Dean, we all heard about him getting into KU. Full ride and everything!"

"Yes," Mary says with genuine warmth. "It's not what I ever would have expected him to choose, but he's so excited, and we're thrilled for him. Honest to god, sometimes I used to wonder if he'd even make it to graduation."

"Oh, he's always had a good head on his shoulders," Anna tells her. "No chance he wasn't going to use it to get places. Anyway, Gabriel, we'll catch up later! I've got to get inside."

Gabriel nods to her and she vanishes. Mary turns to him, bemused. "You're…cousin, right?" she asks.

"Yep. All the looks, none of the trauma." He flushes then, remembering who he's speaking to and rubbing the back of his neck, but Mary laughs, and they both seem surprised by it. Beside his mother, Sam is grinning widely back and forth between them. Gabriel wonders if he knows that his mother knows.

Probably. Neither of them seem to miss a trick.

They head inside with the rest of the crowd and find seats. It feels like it should be awkward, sitting here with Dean's brother and mother, both of whom know exactly who Gabriel is to Dean now, but somehow, it's not. Sam sits in between them and keeps up a running conversation with both. Gabriel fidgets, but it's not discomfort, it's anticipation.

_Soon, soon, soon…_

He has absolutely no idea what exactly will happen "soon" but anything, _anything_ that means finally moving forward will be a relief.

The ceremony lasts for an age, of course. Graduations always do, whether they're for oneself or a loved one. Hours and hours of speeches from people no one really cares about. The valedictorian, Cassie Robinson, is the only one today worth listening to, as she delivers her address poised and elegant, serious and funny by turns. She's going to make a great reporter someday.

Then there are the names. The graduating class is three hundred and sixteen members strong, and it takes approximately five hundred years for each of them to make their way across the stage. Dean is not the very last student listed in the program, but he is very close to it.

It's worth it though. When Anna finally reads off his name, "Dean Henry Winchester!" and he saunters across the stage like he owns it, cap perched only a little lopsided on his head, taking his diploma and shaking Principal Shurley's hand with a grin and a nod to whatever Chuck says to him. It's worth it, when Sam and Mary start cheering and clapping and Gabriel whistles loud enough for Dean to turn, to find them in the crowd, to stare wide-eyed for one brilliant moment before an incredulous smile bursts across his face. He flushes under the bright lights of the stage, waves to them, and doesn't stumble as he makes his way down and back to his seat.

Things wrap up quickly from there, and just like that, Dean is no longer a student at Midway High School. _Finally,_ Gabriel thinks, even though it doesn't really feel real at first. But then they're making their way back outside, and Gabriel tries to hang back, suddenly unsure, until Sam pokes him and gives him a _look_. "Don't wimp out now, Mr. G," he says, and Gabriel manages a huff of laughter in spite of himself.

"Or what?" he asks, a little curious.

Sam glares hard at him, but there's no real ire in it. "I was saving the speech about how much I'll kill you if you hurt him," he says in an undertone, for Gabriel's ears only, "but that doesn't make it any less true now."

Gabriel believes him.

A few of his other past students seem genuinely happy to see him there, and he gives a few of them high-fives and congratulates them, aware of Mary watching him with an expression he can't interpret.

Dean finally exits the building and beelines straight for them, letting his mom wrap him in a long embrace, followed by Sam. There's a lot of tears and laughter and, "Honey, I'm so damn _proud_ of you!" and Dean blushes and stammers and rolls his eyes but can't stop grinning even as he suffers through Mary taking about fifty photos.

And then, finally, he turns to Gabriel. Gabriel shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks to stop himself from reaching out.

Always stopping himself from reaching out.

"Congratulations, Winchester," he says, and if his whole heart is shining in the brightness of the smile he feels stretching across his face, well, too damn bad. "Knew you had it in you."

Dean's returning grin is pure sunshine. "Thanks, Mr. Laufison."

"Not your teacher anymore," Gabriel says, and yeah, there's some giddiness in the saying of it. He's all too aware of Mary and Sam nearby, listening to the exchange, and his ears burn. "You might as well call me Gabriel."

"Gabriel, then," Dean replies, soft and so, so easily. "Thanks. I'm…I'm really glad you could be here."

"Me too." Gabriel's heart is back to feeling like it's going to beat right out of his chest any moment. He's experienced this particular sensation often, since last year. He hopes he gets used to it before it actually leads to a heart attack. He also kind of hopes he _never_ gets used to it, because it's a heady thing.

"Hell, fuck this," Dean suddenly says, and steps forward to wrap Gabriel up in a hug that makes Gabriel laugh shakily. It's not an untoward thing…plenty of the present faculty are hugging their students, and no one could be surprised, since every teacher at Midway knows that Gabriel is Dean's favorite teacher.

"I'm so damn proud of you," Gabriel whispers, then slaps Dean on the back and forces himself to pull away before it _would_ start looking strange.

Dean's eyes are shining and he seems to be having trouble looking away from Gabriel until his mom takes him by the arm and pulls him into another hug that makes him squirm and laugh again.

"Let's head back to the car, before we miss our lunch reservation," she finally says, and Dean hesitates enough for both her and Gabriel to notice. Mary rolls her eyes. "Come on, Dean, lunch and scintillating conversation with your family before you disappear into the great wide world beyond, hop to."

Gabriel gives him an almost imperceptible nod. _Go on, Dean._ This is a day for family after all, and he counts himself lucky he was allowed to be here at all.

"Gabriel," Mary says to him then. "Thank you for being here, I'm so glad you could. Hopefully you have a relaxing rest of your day planned?"

Gabriel blinks, rocking back on his heels as he regards her warily. "Just a hot date with a good book and my dog," he offers, and she smiles.

"Well. Enjoy your quiet evening at home. I'm absolutely sure we'll see you again soon." She gives him a smile that's half promise and half threat, and then she takes both her sons by the arms and they leave the crowded Civic Center lawn with a final wave in his direction.

Gabriel has never in his life been more confused, or flustered, and his heart is still beating that promise of _soon, soon, soon._

*

Castiel is waiting for him on his front porch when he arrives home. Gabriel sits next to him on the top step and releases a deep sigh, leaning back on his hands.

"You made it," Castiel says.

"We made it," Gabriel agrees.

Castiel nudges his shoulder and smiles at him. "So, now what?"

Gabriel shakes his head. Laughs, mostly at himself. "I have absolutely no freaking idea," he says.

*

Gabriel didn't lie to Mary; he is indeed curled up on his couch in sweatpants and an old college t-shirt, with a book in one hand while the other absently pets a snoozing Loki, when the doorbell rings.

His heart gives a frantic leap. He tries to tell it not to get its hopes up. What are the chances?

But…

"Dean," he breathes upon opening the door to find that his heart was right after all.

"Can I come in?" Dean asks, hands jammed in his jeans pockets and one corner of his mouth quirked up.

_God, yes._ Gabriel steps back and Dean steps inside, nudging the door closed behind him. For several heartbeats, all they can do is stare at each other. Gabriel's breath catches in his throat, every nerve standing on end as he gears up to say something, anything—

But then his back hits the wall and Dean's hand is in his hair, tilting his head back and bending down and claiming Gabriel's mouth in the sort of kiss he's dreamed about for _months_. It's greedy and gentle by turns, unpracticed but somehow perfect. Dean's thigh nudges between his legs, and his tongue slips between Gabriel's lips, and nothing, _nothing_ has felt like this, not in his entire life, not in any relationship Gabriel has ever had. He makes a sound, a wholly embarrassing little whimper, and feels Dean smile against his mouth as his other hand finds Gabriel's hip and then slides behind his back, stroking there soft and sweet as he takes Gabriel apart with every press of his mouth.

Gabriel is on fire when Dean gentles again, pressing their foreheads together and then moving to press a kiss to the spot just above the bridge of his nose, smiling down at Gabriel. "Okay," he says, a little breathless. "Worth the wait."

"Dean," Gabriel groans, letting his head thunk back against the wall when Dean laughs lightly.

"I've got you figured out," Dean tells him. "I know you're gonna make me take the reins on this one, deciding how fast or slow we go, being all noble and shit. I'm genuinely trying to decide if I'm all about the full steam ahead approach, or if I want to woo you first."

Gabriel stares up at him, mouth gaping in a way that's probably not attractive. "You've been writing me chocolate love letters since _September_ , he hisses, incredulous. "What the hell do you call that, if not wooing me?" _It worked, too, damn it._

Dean grins at him, brushing Gabriel's hair back from his eyes and kissing his forehead. He's still pressed up against Gabriel, enough that Gabriel can feel exactly how interested he is in Option A.

On the other hand, there's something enticing about the slow approach. Dating. Holding hands. Kissing. Simply enjoying each other, now that they're finally allowed. And it _should_ be Dean's decision, no pressure from Gabriel. God, Gabriel will be happy with anything Dean's willing to give him, no question.

"That?" Dean says, kissing him again, a devastatingly brief thing that makes Gabriel whine. "That was just…incentive. Not to forget about me."

"Like there was any chance of that," Gabriel says on a disbelieving laugh, and this time he tugs Dean down to him and returns each of his kisses in kind. This time, it's Dean who moans, Dean's hand that tightens in Gabriel's hair as he rocks forward again like he can't help himself.

Now that he's allowed to touch Dean, Gabriel is afraid he's never going to be able to stop. He's never going to have enough, never going to be satisfied with _just one more kiss_.

_You're my forever,_ he thinks, and the thought doesn't scare him like it would have, once.

"I missed you." Dean presses the words against his skin, ducking his head to mouth a line of kisses up Gabriel's neck. "God, Gabriel, we've waited long enough, haven't we?" He gasps as Gabriel begins sucking a mark into his collarbone. "I want you, I want everything with you."

Gabriel shudders. _Yes, yes, yes, please._ "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice hoarse. He pulls away just enough to see Dean's eyes, has to be sure in whatever answer Dean gives.

"Gabriel." Dean gazes at him so softly it almost breaks Gabriel into pieces. "I've been sure since the first time I kissed you over a candy apple."

Gabriel is doomed. He's going to fall in love with this idiot ten thousand times at _least_. Every single day for as long as Dean allows it, and probably long after that as well. He kisses him again quick and then slips out from where Dean has him pressed against the wall, taking Dean's hand and tugging him up the stairs as Dean laughs again, lacing their fingers together and following with no protest.

The bedroom is dark and cool, the ceiling fan humming gently in the background as Gabriel flicks his floor lamp on the low setting, instead of using the overhead lights. He wants to be able to see Dean, _has_ to be able to see him, but no reason the lighting can't be mood lighting as well. Turning back to Dean, he shivers a little at the look in his eyes. Dark. _Wanting._

When was the last time someone looked at Gabriel like that and meant it?

They undress each other standing at the foot of the bed, slow, lingering as skin brushes skin. It should be awkward. Gabriel is ninety-nine percent sure Dean has never done this before, and he himself is seriously out of practice.

But sheer passion can cover for even the most awkward of moments, and Gabriel has a lot of passion built up for the young man in his arms. It's all but overflowing from him in torrents, and he presses close to Dean to stem the flow but only serves to quicken it. Dean's arms come around him, and he nuzzles at the dip between Gabriel's neck and shoulder, presses a lingering kiss against the bared skin.

"Show me what to do," Dean whispers. "Show me what you like."

_Anything,_ Gabriel thinks. _Everything._ There is literally nothing Dean could do to him that he would not love.

Still, he turns them, and presses Dean gently backwards onto the bed. All that gently tanned skin is on beautiful display against his dark green bedspread, and Gabriel allows his eyes to feast even as he reaches out to touch, a hand to Dean's chest, tracing whirling patterns there with a feather touch that makes Dean's head fall back to the pillows as he pants a few harsh breaths.

"I may not last long," Dean says on a breathless laugh, and he is, in fact, diamond-hard and leaking against Gabriel, even though he's barely touched him.

_Mine,_ Gabriel can't help but think. Possessiveness was never his thing, but the idea that Dean is giving him this, giving _only_ him this gift…

"I probably won't either," Gabriel tells him honestly. "It's been a while, and this…you…"

Dean smirks up at him. "Yeah? Go on, please."

"Like you need your ego stroked," Gabriel snorts, but leans down to kiss him again, lets his body cover Dean's, lets his own answering hardness brush Dean's, greedily swallowing the needy gasp that follows.

Neither of them may last long but that doesn't mean that Gabriel can't make it count. He fumbles at the bedside table and uncaps the small bottle of lube in the drawer, spilling some onto his fingers. Then reaches between them and takes both of them in hand, letting long, even strokes draw out the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard Dean make.

"I want…I thought…" Dean cries out when Gabriel changes the angle and leans down to nibble at his neck, wanting to mark Dean everywhere.

"There'll be time for everything later." That's a promise he breathes into Dean's skin, whispers a second time against his mouth. "We have time, Dean. Tonight, just let me love you."

Another gasp, a sound almost like a sob, and Dean drags him down into another bruising kiss even as his body shakes apart and he spills over into Gabriel's hand and against his stomach. It's the work of only a few more strokes before Gabriel is following, and he collapses on top of Dean breathing hard and fast, heart pounding so hard it might burst, starbursts behind his eyes and laughter in his ears. He wonders in a vague kind of way if this is why they call it _the little death_ , because, yeah, it feels a little like death.

A really good death.

Dean is still laughing, and poking at Gabriel now. "Not that I don't love this," he says, kissing Gabriel's shoulder. "But you're heavy."

Gabriel manages to lift his head and glare, but he must not do a very good job of it because Dean just laughs harder. It's a good thing Gabriel is pretty sure he's not being laughed _at_ so much as laughed _with_ or this might be a serious blow to his ego.

"Come on," Dean says, and maneuvers Gabriel onto his back, apparently so he can turn onto his own side and curl right back into him. Gabriel loops an arm around him and pulls him closer, as though he can ever be close enough. They're sticky and gross and neither seems to have any intention of changing that any time soon. Dean brings his hand up to Gabriel's face, turns him just enough that he can kiss him again.

And again.

And _again_.

"Hey, Dean," Gabriel says, nudging his nose up against Dean's in an eskimo kiss that makes Dean's nose scrunch up as he laughs again. "I love you. I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to tell you when I should have, but if you let me, I'm going to tell you every single day from now on."

"That sounds pretty awesome from here," Dean tells him. "And I love you, too." The breath he releases sounds shaky, and his eyes close. "God, it's good to be able to say that out loud, and not be afraid."

"Yeah. It is."

They're both quiet for a few moments. Basking, or at least Gabriel sure is. Eventually though, Dean props himself up on an elbow, a worried little crease between his brows that Gabriel realizes he's allowed to smooth out now, the way he wasn't in the past. He does, brushing his thumb against that spot and tracing it around until he's cupping Dean's face. Dean turns into it and presses a kiss against Gabriel's palm.

"Who knew you were such a closet romantic, Winchester," Gabriel says with a grin, and Dean returns it, but then goes right back to looking concerned. Gabriel sighs, and props himself up as well. "Okay. Out with it. What's nagging you?"

"It's just…people are still going to talk, aren’t they?" His jaw is tight, eyes distressingly unhappy. "Won't there still be trouble for you if we're caught? I'm just not sure…"

Gabriel, who has thought of this himself more than he wants to recall right now, presses his fingers to Dean's lips. "Yes. People might see something, might talk about it. But we followed all the rules, Dean. There's nothing they can say that will make me regret falling in love with you. Not now. Not after everything. It would never get past whispered rumors, and _if_ somehow it made it up to the school board, we have plenty of witnesses who'd vouch for us, and there's no evidence of any wrongdoing because, well, there was none. The vouching for us thing was never my intention in anyone finding out, but hell, I'm not going to turn my nose up at it either, if it came to that. Which it won't. Because we did everything we were supposed to, besides the falling in love in the first place part. And I don't regret that. I never will."

"God, speaking of witnesses, my mom…" Dean flushes, red spreading across his freckles in a way that the hand he presses over his face can't hide. "I can't believe she knew. All this time."

Someday, Gabriel's going to ask him how _that_ conversation went, but it's not going to be tonight, and it's _definitely_ not going to be while they're in bed. Gabriel hastily changes tacks. "If you're really worried, just think about the fact that in a few months, you'll be heading off to college, and they won't have anything to talk about anymore, if they ever did."

Somehow, this just makes Dean frown harder. Gabriel should have expected that, honestly. Contrary brat. "KU isn't that far away," Dean says. "I'm still coming home on weekends, not just for you but for Sammy and Mom."

"And that is one hundred percent your choice, and one I will respect and rejoice over every time," Gabriel promises, waggling his eyebrows and finally getting another small smile. "But Dean, seriously. You're allowed to enjoy the college experience. It's fun, don't feel guilty for living it up a little, okay? I'll be here, no matter what. I'm not going anywhere." He leans in, presses his mouth to Dean's, lingers. "I'm yours, Dean Winchester, for as long as you'll have me. You don't need to be here every moment to make sure I don't disappear."

"I know." Dean's smile is wider now, more real. "That doesn't mean I want to be anywhere but here with you if I don't have to be. I promise to enjoy the college thing, but coming home to you? Nothing's gonna beat that." He tilts his head, considering, then his smile changes to a pure Dean Winchester smirk. "Well. Except maybe—"

"Do not _dare_ finish that sentence, Winchester," Gabriel warns.

Dean's eyes gleam, and Gabriel already has the pillow ready when he says, "Why, Mr. Laufison? Gonna give me detention?"

The pillow flies.

*

Tomorrow, they'll meet their families for lunch at Harvelle's. Mary and Castiel will be wary of each other at first, sizing each other up through most of the appetizers, but immediately after will find themselves fast friends, each lamenting to the other about the two idiots they love who are sitting across the table. Sam will grin at Gabriel and surreptitiously pick a pillow feather out of his hair, which will make Dean laugh so hard he chokes on his BLT. Later, Gabriel's hand will slide across their booth and take Dean's, and they'll grin stupidly at each other until Sam pretends to gag. Later that evening, Gabriel will return home to find a Hershey Kiss tucked against the book on his nightstand, and he'll find himself grinning stupidly at it for longer than he'll ever admit to.

Dean and Gabriel will be happy, and in love, and nothing, nothing will be able to hold them back anymore.

Tonight is a beginning, but tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of their lives.

Gabriel can't wait.

_end._


End file.
